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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Greatness from Small Beginnings

Cloudreach 9:20 Dragon,

Highever

The sun rose in the Eastward sky, basking the citizens of Highever in a warm glow. The coast city did not experience much warm weather throughout the year, so when it came, the townsfolk took full advantage of it. Children escaped the confines of their home and ran through the cobblestoned streets, chasing each other and filling the air with laughter. The adults took the warm weather to their advantage as well and readied their fishing nets and poles to bring in food and income to their homes and families. Cloudreach was a time of great merriment. The harsh winter Ferelden always has had finally slipped away and the flowers were on the verge of waking up from their dormant slumber. Those that lived atop the cliff in the mighty castle that overlooked all of Highever were also enjoying the warm weather. Teyrn Bryce Cousland's guardsmen were out in their training grounds, standing at attention and listening intently to what their "general" had to say.

"Alright men, we have to go and save Fergus from the dragon that has taken him. This will not be an easy task. Some of you may die. Or lose a limb or two. But know that your sacrifices will be honored and remembered! Are we ready to slay this dragon?" Bridget Cousland shouted.

"Aye!" the four off duty guards shouted in response.

Normally when the men were off, they liked to hold up in their quarter's playing cards and bragging about any of their latest conquests they had made. Today, however, Matthew, Adam, Willem, and Gilmore found themselves playing 'war' with the Teyrn's ten year old daughter. While they had rather be doing other things…each of the men had a very difficult time denying the young Cousland anything, especially Willem and Gilmore. They were the two youngest guards her father had, and were still in training themselves. But they both dropped anything they were doing half of the time in order to spend time with Bridget. She placed her hands behind her back and paced in a line.

"Good. Highever is grateful to have brave men such as you holding our flag and defending the homeland. Now, let's go and save my brother!"

The men beat on their wooden shields and shouted in agreement. Bridget placed a helm on her head, which wasn't very effective as it was too big for her. Regardless, she picked up her wooden sword and shield (as she wasn't allowed to have a real sword) and led the men across the courtyard to where an unhappy Fergus was tied to a pillar.

"I don't know why you can't play with dolls like other girls your age." He mumbled as she approached him.

Zeus, her Mabari pup, played the part of the fierce dragon. He sat and guarded Fergus like a Hawke, but when his mistress appeared, the hound barked happily and wagged what little bit of a tail he had. Bridget raised her sword and pointed it at Zeus.

"Fierce dragon, I ask that you do not harm my brother! Surrender him to us and we will not harm you! But if you hurt him, we will be forced to slay you!" she shouted.

Zeus tipped his head to the side as he contemplated his mistress's words before he leapt towards her and knocked her flat on her back. Bridget's helm rolled away in the dust as she giggled.

"Ah! The beast has attacked your commander! Men, help her!" Bridget cried.

But her guardsmen were all overcome with laughter and had dropped their weapons. They stood holding their sides and chuckling loudly.

"Zeus! You're supposed to be a deadly dragon! Stop it!" she laughed.

They caused such a fuss that her father, Bryce and his good friend, Rendon Howe, the Arl of Amaranthine, emerged from the nearby doors and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

"Heh, I say, your daughter appears to be enjoying the weather." Howe remarked.

As the Teyrn came into view, his guardsmen all stood at attention. Zeus finally stopped licking Bridget's face and hopped off of her and she scrambled to her feet. Not noticing her father, she let the men have it.

"You four are absolutely awful guardsmen! You left your general to fight the dragon all by herself! I could have been killed and then so would Fergus! You just let Highever's only two heirs die! Your duty is to protect us, not laugh at us!"

Willem and Gilmore shook their heads.

"Forgive us, Milady. When the 'fierce dragon' happens to be your pup, it's difficult for us to see the real danger. We promise that in any real threat, we would defend you to the very last man!" Willem stated, his dark curls falling into his eyes.

Gilmore nodded.

"Agreed!" he stated as he ran a hand through his copper locks.

Bryce and Howe chuckled.

"I should hope that in any real event you would protect my dear daughter." Bryce said jokingly.

Bridget looked at him and blushed as he approached her. The young Cousland technically wasn't supposed to be outside right now, as her mother had ordered a fitting for her this morning. Bryce sighed as he swept his eyes over his daughter. Her golden blonde hair was matted and dirt covered her back and face. She also had a fine coat of Zeus' saliva covering her. Bridget wouldn't look at him because she knew good and well her mother was probably looking for her up and down the castle. Bryce lifted her chin with his fingertips so he could stare into her bright blue eyes.

"Your mother has been looking for you, Pup. I don't think she's going to be happy to know that you need another bath today. What shall I tell her?"

Bridget crossed her arms and pouted.

"I don't want to go inside! I want to stay out here and play war with Willem and Gilmore!" she stated.

Howe raised his eyebrows.

"I daresay your daughter should have been born a boy, Bryce!" Howe chuckled.

Bridget looked at him and frowned.

"I 'daresay' you should keep your opinions to yourself." She grumbled.

Bryce's eyes widened.

"Bridget, mind your tongue!"

But Howe only chuckled.

"Oh that is quite alright, Bryce. That's her mother coming out of her. It is good that she isn't afraid to stand up to someone who is bigger than her. My comment was not appropriate, I apologize Milady."

Bridget looked at him but didn't say anything. She returned her attention back to her father who was smiling at his young daughter. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and chuckled.

"What will I ever do with you?"

Bridget shrugged.

"I do not know…you could get me a real sword and train me! I want to fight and defend our castle, Papa! Won't you let me have a real sword and carry a shield with our crest on it? Please? You know I've never fancied wearing dresses and playing with dolls like Elizabeth and the other noblemen's daughters. I want to be outdoors and practicing my skills against any who wishes to test them!"

Bryce ran his hand over his daughter's hair. Truthfully, he had been considering that very thing. He could tell that she was happiest when she was outside with the other men, either watching them train or being allowed to whack a straw practice dummy here and there. He figured it wouldn't be too difficult convincing Eleanor that this was the path Bridget wanted to take. After all, Bryce would much rather see her learning how to defend herself and be independent than have her marry at sixteen and be with child not even a year later. Deep down, he believed that that is what Eleanor wanted as well.

"We shall see. You should run along to your mother now though, you wouldn't want to make her angry."

Bridget sighed and nodded. She whistled for Zeus and together, they both ran into the castle. Bryce turned to his men and thanked them for fufilling Bridget's wishes and for untying Fergus who was still frowning. He approached s father.

"Father, please give her a sword for Maker's sake? I am so tired of being tied to random things throughout this castle!" he exclaimed.

Bryce chuckled.

"You could always tell her you don't have time to play right now." He suggested.

Fergus rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Father. You know she's impossible to refuse. I pity her future husband. She'll have him wrapped around her finger so tight the man probably won't make any decisions for himself!"

With that, Fergus stormed off back into the castle. He was at a difficult age at fifteen, but was a good boy nonetheless. As Matthew and Adam returned to their duties, Willem and Gilmore began sparring with each other. Bryce turned back to Howe as they began walking back to the main hall.

"Your daughter appears to be very set in her ways, Bryce. Why not train her as a warrior? It would be…impractical I suppose, but the girl does seem very passionate about it."

Bryce nodded and set his hands behind his back. The main hall was a large room that was decorated in tapestries and portraits of the Cousland family. A few plants stood proudly in dusty corners of the room and there were two elven servants who were cleaning the walls and floors. Sunlight spilled in from the paned windows and washed the stone walls and floors in a yellow-orange glow. Even though Castle Cousland was rather old, the rooms were still light and airy.

"I have thought of this as well…I am actually considering hiring a sword-master for her." Bryce said as they continued down the hall to his study. Howe raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? Anyone I am familiar with? I heard the man that is training King Maric's son is quite talented; though I am sure he is far too busy with the royal family to have two students." He stated.

Bryce shook his head as he entered his office. He moved to sit behind his oak desk and Howe sat in front of him and gazed at the portrait of Bryce that hung behind his chair. He was younger in the portrait, but still held a commanding presence. A commanding presence that Howe believed his friend had lost over the years.

"No, you do not know of him. His name is Percival Deapardeux. He is one of the most prolific swordsmen in Orlais."

Howe looked at Bryce and was quiet for a moment.

"Did I just hear you correctly? You are hiring an Orlesian to teach your daughter?"

Bryce nodded.

"Yes…why do you ask?"

Howe gaped at him.

"Are you forgetting the great war we fought with those filthy mongrels?"

Bryce narrowed his eyes.

"That war ended several years ago, Howe. The Orlesians are our allies now. You cannot still hold ill will towards them?"

"I hold ill will against anyone who slaughters my friends." Howe quipped.

Bryce shook his head.

"That was in the past, Howe. Yes, they did terrible things, but we did too. But the war is over now. It is time we put aside our differences and open our borders to them without looking upon them with disdain. Our families were once pitted against each other, but look at us now. I consider you my friend and brother. Don't you think it's time to quell the rage in your heart?"

Howe frowned and crossed his arms.

"Say what you will, I still do not agree with it. Make sure he doesn't teach her how to cut your throat in the night. If I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open, especially if you plan to board him here."

Bryce folded his hands in front of his face and sighed.

"Your opinion has been noted. I realize you say what you do out of concern, and I appreciate that…but it is time to put aside your differences and accept the fact that the Orlesians are not just going to disappear."

Howe rolled his eyes and stood.

"No, it appears they won't, especially if you're going to place one right under your nose." He stated.

With that, Howe exited the room and left Bryce alone with his thoughts. Bryce didn't regret his decision, however. By fighting the Orlesians for as many years as he did, he was able to study their combat tactics. Whereas most Fereldans ran head first into battle, the Orlesians treated it more like a dance. They were graceful and quick on their feet, not hard and clunky like most men. That is the way he wanted Bridget to learn how to fight. Yes, sometimes she would need to be clunky and centered, but if she learned how to fight like the Orlesians…she may stand a better chance in battle.

After all, they knew many things that Bryce and other Fereldans did not. Bryce grabbed some parchment and a quill and began to pen a letter to Ser Deapardeux. Hopefully this man did not have any ill feelings towards Ferelden and would gladly teach Bridget all that he knew. He was one of the best swordsmen in Orlais, an expert with the sword and shield as well as dual weaponry. Bryce knew he had to have numerous skills to pass on to any willing student, and he knew Bridget would soak up every lesson as the flowers soak in the rain water and sunlight. He just hoped that the man was available and held no grudges against Ferelden. After all…many old warriors, like Howe, still did…

xXx

"And just when were you going to consult me on this?" Teyrna Eleanor Cousland demanded.

Bryce had recently received Pecival's reply about teaching Bridget the ways of the sword. He was thrilled to have her as a student and stated that he would arrive within a fortnight to teach the young Cousland all he knew. In the weeks that followed his letter, however, Bryce had failed to mention his plans to his wife, who was very disturbed by the thought of her daughter being surrounded by men all day.

"Ser Deapardeux is an expert, my love. He will train Bridget separately from the other men. You know that this will make her happy. Our daughter is not traditional. And I for one do not want her married in six years and her belly swollen with a child. I remember you once being very skilled with a bow yourself, after all."

Eleanor crossed her arms and sighed.

"Yet it was the softer arts that made you fall in love with me, was it not?"

Bryce chuckled and stood. He walked towards his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Honestly, no. I did not care if you knew how to sew holes in my shirts or if you could carry a tune. What I love most about you, my dear wife is your independent and stubborn soul. I remember you once could work a bow just as good as any man. And let's not forget that we shared our first kiss after a sparring match…"

Eleanor smiled at the memory and looked up at her husband.

"Oh alright, you've made your point. Perhaps it will be good for Bridget to learn how to properly defend herself. She will hopefully have children someday that she will need to learn how to protect…after all, we women can't rely on you men all the time."

Bryce threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"That's exactly right! All the more reason she should learn. My only concern is that Fergus may grow jealous. While he has his own sword-master…Tobias is not quite as skilled as Ser Percival."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I don't believe you need to worry about Fergus. He's been very preoccupied trying to woo that young Antivan girl in the village. Her father is a very rich trader, or so I hear. Perhaps we should invite her family to dine with us soon?"

Bryce drew his brows together.

"He's only fifteen, love. Give him at least another year. After all, we didn't marry until we were sixteen and eighteen."

Eleanor sighed.

"Yes, I realize that. But I still believe we should invite them. If our son is anything like you were at that age, he'll be whispering sweet nothings into that girl's ear in no time. You Cousland men do have a way with words, after all. Your father was the biggest charmer I've ever met."

Bryce grinned.

"That he was. Very well, if you wish to invite them then we will have them. Ser Percival should be arriving within the next few days, we need to prepare the castle and welcome him with open arms."

And they did. A few weeks later, Bryce, Eleanor, Fergus and Bridget stood in the main hall waiting for Percival to arrive. Bryce had still not told his daughter that she would begin studying swordplay, so she just assumed that this was another one of her father's guests and that she had to act like the little lady she was. The doors to the hall opened and a young elven servant entered, followed by another man. He was tall and lean, yet his thin stature belied how much strength he possessed.

Ser Percival Deapardeux looked every bit like Bryce imagined he would. He was certainly Orleasian, that you could tell by his dress. He wore fine clothes made of silk and had a very ornate blade hanging by his waist in a decorative scabbard. He wore his light brown hair long and kept it pulled back in a tight ponytail. His skin looked as if it had been kissed by the sun and carried wrinkles. A warrior always looked older than they actually were, and this was true for Ser Percival. He was nearing fifty years of age, but he looked as if he were past that. He carried sharp grey eyes, but they were kind. His nose was long and fit his thin face well, as did his lips that were curved into a small, polite smile. Upon reaching the family, he bowed gracefully.

"Ser Percival Deapardeux at your service, Teyrn Bryce Cousland. I thank you for allowing me to stay with you and for trusting me with the education of your child."

Bryce stepped forward and shook Percival's hand.

"It is a pleasure to have you with us, Ser. Allow me to introduce my wife and son."

Bridget sighed as her father continued the introductions. She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. She wanted to find Willem and Gilmore to see if they could teach her any new techniques they had learned and was itching to get out of her dress and wear something more comfortable.

"And this is my daughter, your new pupil, Bridget."

Bridget's attention was suddenly caught. She looked up at her father with wide eyes.

"You have another new teacher for me? What else is there for me to learn, Papa?" she groaned.

Bryce chuckled and knelt down towards her.

"Ser Percival is not going to teach you history or anything like that, my dear. You have your teacher for that. This man is going to teach you how to,"

Percival cleared his throat and smiled down at Bridget.

"I will teach you any and everything you need to know to best your enemies. I will teach you how to wield a sword and a shield, how to use twin daggers as one, and how to defend yourself and others. I will teach you how to live. I will teach you how to survive. I will not treat you any differently than my previous students because of your sex or the position you hold in society. You are my student, simple as that. If you heed what I say and pay attention to my lessons, you will become a very skilled swordswoman. But I need to know that this is what you truly want. Will you spend the long grueling hours training in the harsh sunlight? Will you spend them outside in the cold of winter? Will you continue even when you are beaten? And trust me; you will not defeat me for quite some time. I need to know that you want this with every fiber of your being. I do not teach weak minded individuals. You either have the strength and perseverance to learn this art…or you do not. What say you, Lady Cousland? Can you take up arms under the command of an Orleasian? Or can you not?"

Bryce raised his eyebrows, not knowing if his daughter understood all that Percival said, but when he shifted his eyes to her, he saw determination etched into her face and resolve held in her eyes.

"I can!" she stated proudly.

Percival lips curled up into a smile.

"Excellent. We will begin training immediately. Go and change into something you can actually move in and meet me in the courtyard. I will start you off with a wooden sword and when I feel you are ready, we will progress to other weaponry."

Bridget grinned and nodded. She threw her arms around Bryce and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you so much, Papa! I will not let you down!" she exclaimed.

With that, she hurried away. Bryce looked at Percival.

"It is good to know that you will not discriminate against her because of her high birth but…you will not hurt her, am I understood?"

Percival raised a brow and placed his hands behind his back.

"No child will ever learn something without making mistakes along the way. Those mistakes in battle could cost your daughter her life or someone else's. I will teach her just as I have taught my other students. She is not the first lady I have taught. The others sported bruises, but that was due to their own follies. I cannot give her the impression that she will not be hurt while training because that is not how it works in real life. I will not let her bleed, however. I can promise you that."

Bryce opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and nodded. Percival did have a point. A bruise now could prevent a severe wound later. Soon enough, Bridget returned wearing a pair of dark green leggings, leather boots, a linen shirt with a belt, and had her hair pulled back to keep it out of her eyes. Bryce led them both to the courtyard and then left. In his heart of hearts, he knew this was the right decision. He just hoped that Bridget would truly soak up everything that he had to teach her.

"Choose your weapon." Percival stated as he presented her with three different choices. All made of wood. There was a sword and shield, daggers, and a bow. Bridget immediately picked up the sword and shield, but frowned.

"Wood again…when do I get to use real weaponry?" she asked.

Percival withdrew a wooden sword and shield for himself and shook his head.

"You think a wooden sword is ineffective? Not true. I killed a man with a wooden sword once and knocked out another one. Do not underestimate the power of something just by the way it looks. That goes for weapons as well as opponents. Just because someone is small and lean does not mean they will be quick and graceful. On the other side of the coin, just because someone is large and muscular does not mean that they will be slow with their strikes. It is best that you learn this now. Demonstrate to me what techniques you do know on that straw dummy." He stated.

Bridget walked towards the nearby dummy. She took a deep breath as she felt nerves enter her stomach. She began swinging her blade this way and that. Percival frowned.

"You lack direction. Your strikes are erratic when they should be calculated. A real opponent will not just stand there, my dear. In the time it takes you to pull your blade back and swing again, your enemy could already have you impaled on their blade. Also don't stand in one place for too long. It's important that you always keep moving. Stand still for too long and an enemy could cut you down by your shins. Treat a battle as if you are performing an intricate dance. Make sure that your body never stills, not until you and your companions are the last ones on the field. Allow me to demonstrate some techniques for you."

Bridget watched eagerly as Percival slowly began to show her his skills.

"Think of your sword as just an extension of your arm. Let it move with you like this." He stated as he swung his sword gracefully throughout the air.

"And remember, your shield is not just for protection. You can use it to bash your enemies and knock them down, like so."

He bashed the straw dummy once, then twice, then swung his sword and stopped short of decapitating it.

"Use your shield to stun them and finish them off with your blade. However, if your shield is made of steel and you hit them hard enough, you may be able to kill them with it. Do what I just did." He stated.

Bridget copied Percival's actions, yet he still found faults with her stance.

"Put your feet a little further apart. Your stance is everything. If you do not have a commanding presence, your foes will take you down easily. If your feet are not securely placed, you will be easily knocked over. Especially with as barbaric as some of you Fereldans fight."

Bridget moved her feet as Percival suggested and tried again. They continued until dusk was settling over the castle. Bridget's arms and legs were extremely sore, and she didn't care for how Percival always seemed to find fault with everything she did. She held her tongue, however, knowing that he was just trying to help her. And he did. Every day after their first meeting, Percival trained Bridget for six hours a day. He taught her numerous techniques from different stances, to how to hold her blade effectively. Percival supplied her with scrolls that detailed different sword techniques and how to properly use her shield for protection, and as a weapon. Bridget thought for sure that she would graduate to use a steel sword soon, but it actually took her an entire year before Percival allowed her to use one. The sword he supplied her with was not ornate either, but average and rather dull.

"You'll get a fancier sword later on, but for now this will do." He had said.

Bridget trained. She trained hard. She listened and studied any and everything her master taught her and as the years passed, Bridget's confidence grew. She learned to swing her blade with precision and accuracy. She knew how to decapitate a man cleanly, how to make sure her blade would not become stuck in a man's chest, and she also learned how to sharpen and care for her weapons. Percival taught her to treat her blades like young babes. They needed love and care. He showed her how to properly sharpen her blades, how to reinforce a simple wooden shield if she did not have anything stronger. He also taught her how to take care of her armor and what was appropriate for her to wear to give her the best protection, but that would not hinder her movements. When she was fourteen, Percival began to teach her how to use twin daggers. Again he presented her with three choices; this time however, he began with real blades.

"Choose wisely. Each set is used differently."

Bridget gazed down at the weapons. The first sets of daggers were long and thin. They almost looked like mini rapiers. The second set was curved slightly and had jeweled handles. The third set looked like smaller versions of the blade she was already using. Bridget chose the first set. Percival nodded.

"Good choice. The middle pair is not native to this country and would be difficult to replace if something happened to it. The last pair is very similar to the blade you use now, only in dagger form. But this set…this set is good. In Orlais we name our weapons. The set you have picked up is called Force et Vigueur, meaning strength and vigor."

Bridget picked them up and inspected them closely.

"Why are you training me in daggers as well as my sword and shield?" she asked curiously.

Percival replaced the other daggers back on the table in the armory and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Because there will be times when you need to get in close, and that is where daggers will be an asset. They are to be treated just as you treat your sword and shield. But instead of thinking of them as two separate blades, think of them as one blade that has been sliced down the middle. They are two halves of a whole. Treat them that way. You swing one blade, you swing the other. They move together, never against. Daggers, particularly these daggers, are made for slicing. They are thin, yes, but they cut deep. Slice a man's throat with this and he will bleed out. I am teaching you how to use other forms of weaponry other than a sword and shield because swords and shields are very conspicuous, yes? There may be times were you may be forced to be unarmed…however, you can always conceal a dagger or two strapped to your leg. Never go anywhere unarmed, my dear. That was the mistake my father made."

Over the years, Percival and Bridget became very close, so close that he mentioned to Bryce one evening that she was as close to a daughter as he would ever have. Over time, he began to open up about his past to his young pupil. His father fought in the Frelden and Orlesian war, and he was killed in a most horrible fashion. He was tricked into thinking that he was to attend the signing of a peace treaty, when it really was just a ruse to get Orlais' top generals all into a room together.

A blood bath ensued and while some of the generals were able to escape, Percival's father was not. He was killed and his head was sent to Empress Celene as a message that the Fereldans were not ready to give up. Percival never uttered the name of the man who killed his father, however. He said that it was bad luck to do so. But as Bridget got older, she noticed that whenever Arl Howe visited her family that Percival became very quiet and always seemed to glare at the Arl. When she was younger, Bridget assumed that it was just because Howe was very open in his distaste for the Orlesians, but as she grew older; her original thought began to change. When she was sixteen, she questioned Percival about it as they ate lunch together under the large oak tree in the courtyard. The flowers were in full bloom and there was a light breeze in the air. The sun was shining brightly in the sky and there wasn't a cloud to be seen. Bridget finished an apple and was fixing her leather armor as Percival answered her inquiry.

"Your mind is sharp, little bird. That is good to know. Its one thing to be able to dual a man with a sword, but it is a different thing entirely when you are battling someone's wit. To answer your question, yes. Arl Rendon Howe played a part in my father's death. 'Twas his own father that killed mine. I hold no ill will against Arl Rendon…even though his distaste for me is clear. It is difficult to look at him, however, and not see his father. Anger is petty, however. And it can cloud ones judgment so badly that one may not think clearly. I have learned that emotions tend to make people sloppy. Best to keep them in check when in battle, young one. Men make awful mistakes sometimes when in love or when they have suffered great losses. Don't be one of those people that do."

"Aye, Ser." Bridget replied.

As the years continued to drift by, Bridget learned more and more. She bested many of her father's men in combat, especially Willem and Gilmore, who were so shocked that the young girl they used to play war with was now a fierce warrior who was very capable of leading them into the very battles they used to make up. Soon, Bridget was even able to match her brother's skill, and even her father's. He beamed at her proudly as he watched her and Percival train and spar. He could tell when she became frustrated with the man, but admired her ability to keep going. Eleanor was proud of her daughter too. Bryce knew he had made the right decision and knew that his daughter would be a force to be reckoned with.

There was something, however, that Bryce, nor any of the Cousland family knew. Throughout the years, a deep and envious hatred began to brew within someone close to them…and as whispers began to spread that dark things were emerging from the Deep Roads, the noblemen of Ferelden were asked to gather their armies and send them to Ostagar to fight this Blight with good King Cailan. The air was turning cold and with Old Man Winter's breath came a chill of unease in the air. Something was coming…and that something would change Bridget Cousland's life forever. As a child, all she wanted was to take up arms and defend her home from those that wished to threaten it. As a young adult, she would get to do just that…though she never thought it would be against someone so close to her heart...and her home. Her father always said that she was destined for greatness, and she was. Bridget's destiny would be filled with great tragedy and sorrow…but tragic histories can make the strongest of heroes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

The Arl's Betrayal

Kingsway 9:30 Dragon

Highever

The early morning sunlight spilled in through the parts in the curtained windows of Bridget's room. The light illuminated and warmed her face and caught the shadows that were on the floor and walls for a brief dance. Bridget took a deep breath and drew her brows together as she licked her lips. She was having an interesting dream that she wasn't ready to wake up from yet, but as she felt a warm arm slide over her and hug her tight, her eyes fluttered open. She smiled.

"You stayed?" she asked huskily, her voice low since she was still waking up.

She felt her partner breathe in the scent of her hair deeply before placing a kiss to her shoulder. His stubble tickled her skin and made her smile wider.

"Of course I stayed. I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday."

Bridget turned over to face Willem. He smiled at her sweetly and placed a chaste kiss to the wing of her nose.

"Happy birthday, love." He whispered.

Bridget chuckled as she brushed his dark, curly locks out of his deep green eyes.

"Thank you. I'm nearly as old as you now." She replied.

Willem raised an eyebrow.

"Oh please, I'm only four years your senior. But I say, since it is your birthday, should we not celebrate?" he asked as he rolled over her and kissed her slowly.

Bridget smiled against his lips before she broke the kiss and shook her head.

"You and I celebrated quite enough last night, or have you already forgotten?"

Willem smiled a downright roguish grin and said,

"Darling, I will never forget that. Some of it is a little hazy, though. Would you mind jogging my memory?"

Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again before pulling back and shaking her head.

"Your shift is starting soon and if you're seen, father will,"

Willem bowed his head in defeat.

"Have my head, yes I know. Very well, I'll be off, but…shall I return tonight?" he asked as he slid off of her and began to dress.

Bridget propped herself up on her elbow and tipped her head to the side.

"Do you really have to ask?"

Willem's lips curved up into a smile as he laced his breeches.

"I suppose not, no."

He sat on the edge of her bed to lace up his boots. Bridget watched him contentedly as he stood and pulled his shirt over his head. He walked towards her door and looked over his shoulder.

"Until tonight then, see you soon, love."

Willem opened the door just as Bridget's handmaiden, Aravae, was about to knock. Bridget bit her lip and drew her brows together as she watched all the color drain from Willem's face.

"Oh, uh…hello there. I was ah…just checking in on our dear Lady Cousland. She heard something and um…"

Aravae raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

"Be grateful you're a good swordsman, Willem, because you are a terrible liar. You and I both know that Lady Bridget can defend herself. Go on now, and be grateful Nan wasn't the one that was coming to tend to her this morning."

Willem bowed his head and hurried past her. Aravae entered the room carrying a bucket of steaming hot water and closed the door behind her. Bridget had buried her face in her hands from embarrassment and was peeking at her elven maiden through her fingers.

"Promise you won't tell father?" she asked.

Aravae walked into the washroom to begin drawing Bridget's bath.

"Aye, I won't say anything. But you should really limit your escapades with Ser Willem, Milady. Explaining a swollen belly to your father would be a very awkward task, I imagine."

Bridget nodded and stood as she walked into the washroom behind Aravae.

"Yes, I know. We are careful, though."

Aravae didn't say anything as she retrieved some towels and soaps. She placed them nearby, so Bridget could easily reach them once she was in the basin.

"If you say so. Just try to be a little more discreet. I actually ran into your father on the way up here, he wishes to see you once you're finished here."

Bridget slid off her gown and sat in her basin.

"Did he say what for?" she asked.

Aravae shook her head.

"No, Milady. He was in the main hall along with Arl Howe's men, those that have arrived at any rate."

Bryce and Howe's men were to march to Ostagar to aide King Cailan in the battle against the Darkspawn and hopefully, end this Blight before it ever truly began. Howe only arrived with half of his regiment, however, the others should have been here by now. As Bridget finished washing and began to dress, she wondered where they could be.

"I'll wear that dress tonight, Aravae. For now I will keep to my leggings and leather armor."

Aravae smirked.

"You will do anything to be comfortable, you know that? Very well, I'll leave this out for your birthday banquet later tonight. Good day, Milady."

With that, she retrieved the now empty bucket of water and exited the room. Bridget threw her hair back in a makeshift bun and followed her out, hurrying down the steps and towards the main hall. Along her way, she found a few of her father's men scattered about, some on their posts and others trying to get their things ready to head for battle. Upon entering the main hall, Bridget saw her father and Howe speaking in the distance as well as many of Howe's men standing about, sharpening their swords or engaged in conversation with a few of Bryce's soldiers.

"Ah pup, there you are. Happy birthday, my dear girl." Bryce stated as Bridget approached him.

She hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Father." She replied.

Howe smiled at her.

"Indeed, a happy birthday to you, my dear. My son, Thomas sends his regards."

Bridget smiled at him and nodded her head. For years now, Howe had been vying for a marriage between one of his sons and Bridget to strengthen the ties between their families, however, Bridget was in no hurry to get married. Still, not wanting to be rude in front of her father, Bridget asked,

"I hope he is well?"

Howe nodded.

"Quite so. He can never stop speaking of your beauty." He replied.

Bridget smiled at him briefly before returning her attention to her father.

"You wanted to see me?"

Bryce tucked a piece of his daughter's hair behind her ear and nodded.

"Indeed. I need you to go and find your brother. He is to ride out to Ostagar tonight and inform the King of our delay."

Bridget furrowed her brow.

"Why are your troops delayed, Arl Howe?" she asked.

Howe shook his head.

"Poor weather, I'm afraid. The rains have stalled them temporarily, but they should arrive soon. I am sure Arl Eamon has sent plenty of his men from Redcliffe, Bryce. Allow your son to stay for the festivities this evening. We may all ride together in the morning or afternoon when my men arrive."

Bryce bowed his head to his friend.

"I am sure Fergus will not mind leaving early, besides, we have heard no word from Redcliffe at all, so it is better to be safe than risk the king having no troops."

Howe pursed his lips together and placed his hands behind his back. Bridget brightened.

"Father, you know I'm a faster rider than Fergus. Let me go to Ostagar and inform King Cailan of Arl Howe's men. I can let him know and then wait there for you, and all three of us may go into battle together." She stated.

Bryce placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders and shook his head.

"Pup, you know I need you here. I'm entrusting the whole castle to you whilst I'm away. You're supposed to remain here and reside over the men that I will leave with you, as well as take care of our citizens."

Bridget frowned.

"But Father,"

Bryce shook his head.

"I can't entrust this task with anyone else. Do you understand?"

Bridget sighed and nodded. Bryce smiled.

"Good. Now, go and find your brother and relay this news. I will see you at your banquet tonight."

With that, Bryce kissed her forehead and immediately returned his attention to Howe. They both resumed the conversation they were having earlier. Bridget walked out of the main hall and clenched her fists. She didn't understand her father. Why search for one of the best swordsmen in Thedas, have him train her for a full decade, and then still keep her from fighting in any real battles?

"How does he expect me to test these skills I've mastered over the years if all I do is stay here and watch over things?" she asked herself.

Bridget made her way to the armory were Percival was. She knew he would make her feel better. As Bridget turned the corner and entered the armory, she stopped short as she bumped into someone exiting.

"Forgive me, Sir." She stated.

The man that she walked into smiled kindly at her. Bridget did not recognize him. He had ravenous black hair and a beard to match and very kind, deep brown eyes. He was dressed smartly, but was ready for trouble, as Bridget had noted the swords hanging at his sides.

"Forgive me, Milady." He replied.

Percival approached them both and smiled.

"Ah Bridget, good morning. I see you have met my friend, Duncan." He stated.

Bridget furrowed her brow.

"Err, yes. Ran into him is more like it, though."

Duncan chuckled.

"It's quite alright, Milady. Allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens. Your father invited me here today to look for some recruits. I stopped by the armory in search of a Ser Gilmore, but ran into Ser Percival instead."

Bridget blinked.

"The Grey Wardens?" she asked.

As a child, her nanny had told her numerous tales of the brave Grey Wardens and how they were fierce protectors of Thedas, ridding the land of the vile Darkspawn whenever they resurfaced, how they slayed monstrous dragons, and how they rode on the backs of griffons. Bridget tried her hardest to contain herself. But it was very hard not to. Duncan was representing the very order she dreamed of as a child. She revered the Wardens as mighty heroes whose duty was to protect the land and all those who lived on it.

Wardens held no prejudices, they allowed anyone to join be it dwarf, elf, human, man, or even woman. As someone who was constantly laughed at by outsiders for the path she had chosen in becoming a warrior, the Wardens were like a safe haven to Bridget's young mind. As she got older, she realized that you had to have a certain skill set in order to join this sacred order. She was sure that with as hard and as much as her father's men trained, Duncan would surely find a few recruits.

"I see. Pardon my surprise. It's just, Wardens were my childhood heroes. I was told many stories as a young girl of your order and the prowess of those who were lucky enough to join. Forgive my childlike giddiness when I say that it is a true honor to meet someone who is actually a part of the order of the very tales I was once told."

Duncan smiled and chuckled.

"It is quite alright. I will say, out of all the men your father has, you are actually the strongest candidate, Milady."

Bridget raised her eyebrows, but bowed her head quickly.

"It is an honor to hear you say that, Ser, but I believe you are mistaken. I have never truly been in a real fight, all those that I have partaken in have been mock battles to train. I have trained for ten years of my life on how to kill my enemy, yet I have never actually killed anything. Tis hard to kill something that you do not have."

Duncan nodded.

"If only I could say the same, Milady. Still, you are a very skilled swordswoman. I would be honored to have you join our Order."

Before Bridget could answer, Percival cut in.

"Good luck with that, my friend. Unless you plan on using the Right of Conscription, Bryce would never allow it."

Duncan nodded.

"Oh yes, I know. I wouldn't want to risk angering a Teyrn, especially when the Wardens have so few friends as it is. I must go and speak with the other men, good day, Percival. Milady."

With that, Duncan bowed slightly and exited the room. Bridget turned back to Percival and crossed her arms.

"You certainly have friends in high places." She stated.

Percival threw his head back and laughed.

"Ha! Depends on who you talk to. So, what brings you here to see me today? I told you we wouldn't train, it's your birthday. I can at least give you this day off if no other." He said as he propped himself up against the stone wall and crossed his arms.

Bridget shrugged.

"Yes, I know. I want your opinion on something though."

Percival raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? You so rarely come to me asking for that of all things, what's on your mind?"

Bridget walked over to the nearby table and sat on it. She looked at Percival and drew her brows together.

"Again, Father is keeping me here whilst he and Fergus go and fight in battle. What is the point of me studying swordplay if all he wants me to do is keep his seat warm while he's off having real fun?"

Percival looked at her.

"Battle is never fun, little bird. Exhilarating, yes. But never fun. Have you expressed your wishes to your father?"

Bridget nodded.

"Yes. But he just says the same thing each time. 'I need you here,' 'There's no one else I entrust more with this task,'"

Percival sighed.

"It is important that he does trust you enough with this task though, little bird. There are some kings who do not even trust their children. He is only doing this to protect you."

Bridget rolled her eyes and slid off the table.

"I can protect myself. You have taught me how to do so for ten years."

Percival shook his head.

"Yet there is still always something new to learn. Come, I think I have something that will cheer you up. No one should frown on their birthday, after all."

Bridget followed Percival further into the armory where an ornate box sat atop a long table. The window in front of the table spilled bright sunlight out into the room, and illuminated the wooden box. Bridget ran her hands over the box as Percival moved to stand behind the table. It was smooth beneath her fingertips. Carved into it were many swirls and designs, Bridget guessed that they were Orlesian.

"Go on, open it up." Percival urged.

She unhooked the latches to the box and lifted the lid. Inside laid a very decorative sword, one very similar to Percival's. The handle was made of pure silver and was designed in such a way, that the hilt of it was a dragon's head and the handle itself was his body. The blade itself was very fine. Bridget picked it up carefully and inspected it closely. It was made of the finest steel and glinted brightly in the sunlight. She turned to Percival and raised an eyebrow.

"This is for me?" she asked in surprise.

Percival smiled at her and nodded.

"Indeed. I remember you asking me as a child when you would get to wield a 'real' blade. The sword you have now is good enough for any knight or warrior, but this sword, Patience et Persévérance, is specifically made for you. I have studied your combat tactics these past ten years and had this blade crafted to best suit your strengths."

Bridget grinned and looked at Percival. He handed her the scabbard that was also made for her and she placed the blade in it carefully. She then hugged him tightly.

"Thank you for this, Ser. And for all you have taught me. Do you think I can best you in combat with this blade?"

Percival hugged her back tightly and chuckled. He pulled away and stared at his young pupil.

"Well, we can certainly find out, if you so wish?"

Before Bridget could answer, she heard footsteps behind her. Ser Gilmore emerged out of the shadows.

"Beg pardon, Milady. I've been sent to find you immediately. Your hound he…he's gotten into the larder again and Nan has all but physically damaged anyone in the kitchens. She requests that you come and retrieve him at once."

Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Ugh Zeus can never stay in one place for more than five minutes. Very well, Gilmore. Let's go before Nan actually hurts someone."

Gilmore nodded and turned to leave but Percival cut in.

"If I may just have a few more moments of your time, Milady? There is something I wish to tell you."

Bridget nodded.

"I'll be waiting outside." Gilmore stated as he left.

Bridget looked at Percival.

"What did you wish to tell me?"

Percival cast his eyes over his young pupil and remembered the day he first saw her; a stubborn, but determined child who was willing to do any and everything to prove her worth. He had watched her grow up from that stubborn child into a beautiful, intelligent, strong young woman. Yet something did not sit well with him. Often times, old warriors could sense when there was trouble or danger near, and Percival had had the growing suspicion deep within him that something dark was brewing. He felt the need to pass on a very vital piece of information to Bridget, one that he believed, would possibly save her life one day. He placed his hands on her shoulders and became serious.

"I want you to know this, in case you may ever need it. There are times when our enemy may best us. There are times when we will be beaten, times where we may be imprisoned, times where we may find ourselves weaponless and bound. If you ever find yourself in a situation like this, I want you to remember one thing: just because you may be void of your blade and daggers, that does not mean you are defenseless. You have another, very powerful weapon. Something that cannot be taken away from you unless your enemy had a great amount of patience."

Bridget furrowed her brow.

"What is this weapon?" Bridget asked slowly.

Percival moved his mouth to reveal his teeth, and opened his mouth and closed it quickly so that his upper teeth clashed against his bottom ones.

"Your teeth, little bird. In certain circumstances, they can be just as lethal as any sword or dagger. If you ever find yourself bound, bruised, and beaten…just remember that you are not. That you can escape and that you will escape."

Bridget drew her brows together.

"Why tell me this, Ser?" she asked softly.

Normally, Percival would have withheld his feelings of uneasiness from his pupil. However, because it was such a strong feeling, he felt that she should know.

"I am in my sixth decade on this world, little bird. Once you reach a certain age…you can begin to feel things, deep in your bones. I'm not talking about the pains of aging, either. I sense that there is something coming. Be it another Blight or something else. Whatever it is, I want you to be prepared for anything. You are not one to overestimate your own abilities. You are smart enough to realize that there are other warriors out there who are better than you, who are bigger than you. Not everyone you meet will be an ally. Some of them will hurt you and capture you. In case that happens, I just want you to know how to get out of that situation, or at least how to try to get out of that situation. If I feel that we need to address this further, when we practice again, I will tie your hands behind your back and we will practice getting you out of such compromises. I want you prepared for anything, little bird. Hopefully, my intuition is wrong…but I do not know. The winds are changing and I just feel very wary of what may come."

Bridget took in Percival's words and nodded slowly. She too felt a certain change in the air. No one knew what was going on with the Darkspawn. Was Thedas truly on the brink of another Blight? Or was this just a random horde that had escaped the Deep Roads? Whatever it was, the threat was real enough since the king was calling for troops.

"I will remember your words, Ser. Thank you."

Percival smiled at her, squeezed her shoulders gently, and then released her.

"Let us hope that you will not have to use them in a real situation. Go and fetch your hound now, before Nan gets too angry and ends up burning your banquet's meals tonight, eh? We will test that blade tomorrow, first thing."

Bridget nodded.

"Aye, Ser."

She turned and left the armory, finding Gilmore waiting patiently for her back outside.

"I'm very sorry to bother you with this, Milady, but your hound listens to no one but you."

Bridget chuckled.

"That dog is too smart for his own good sometimes. How have you been, Gilmore? I haven't seen much of you in a while."

Gilmore smiled down at her. Everyone seemed to get a growth spurt but Bridget. Whereas she used to be nearly as tall as both Willem and Gilmore when they were younger, they both stood a head and a half higher than her now.

"I've been well, Milady. May I ask you something though?"

Bridget nodded.

"Of course." She said as they turned the corner and headed towards the kitchens.

"Is it true that there is a Grey Warden here today? Looking for recruits?" he asked eagerly.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

"You didn't know either? Good, I don't feel as left out now. Yes, he is here. In fact, he mentioned he was looking for you earlier when I ran into him and Ser Percival."

Gilmore's eyes widened.

"Looking for me? Does he mean to test me? To recruit me?"

Bridget nodded.

"Yes, I believe so. He mentioned you by name so that must mean something." She stated.

Gilmore grinned.

"That would be such an honor, to be a Grey Warden I…I've dreamt of it ever since I was a boy. What about you, Milady? Surely if Duncan has me in mind, you must be his first choice. You are drastically better with a sword than I am."

Bridget shook her head.

"Nonsense, Gilmore. You are just as skilled as I. Besides, there is no way father would allow his only daughter to join them."

Gilmore looked at her and laughed.

"You know you are far better than I, Milady. But I am flattered nonetheless that you find my skills in somewhat of a comparison to yours. I thank you."

As they turned another corner, Bridget could hear Nan yelling in the distance. She bit her lip and laughed lightly.

"Let's get on before Nan starts throwing knives."

As she and Gilmore entered the kitchens, Nan had her back to them as she was yelling at two of the elven staff.

"You two are absolute rubbish! Don't you know how to cook anything? We've got to get all these men fed as well as a fancy meal for the Teryn and his daughter to celebrate her birthday and him going into battle. You mess one thing up and it'll be me that gets the ear full, not you!"

"Nan, please calm down." Bridget said as she approached the volatile old woman.

Nan whipped around and stared at both her and Gilmore. She narrowed her eyes.

"It's about bloody time you two got here. Go get that filthy mongrel out of my larder before he eats the meat for tonight! Then we'll all just have to have broth and I will not be responsible for sending these men to bed without a proper meal!"

Bridget nodded.

"Relax, Nan. Zeus doesn't like raw meat anyway." She said as she and Gilmore made their way to the larder.

Bridget opened the door and found her mabari hound pacing back and forth and sniffing the ground.

"Zeus, how many times have I told you to not bother Nan? Let's get you out of here."

But Zeus barked and ran to the other side of the larder where he growled and barked again. He then knocked over a bag of flower and revealed three very large rats eating away. Gilmore stepped into the room and made quick work of the rats, as did Zeus. He then picked one up in his mouth, trotted outside proudly, and placed the rat at Nan's foot.

"And what in the Maker's name am I supposed to do with this? Hmm? Cook it up into a stew?"

Bridget followed Zeus out as Gilmore checked for more rats and dealt with any he saw.

"These rats are huge! Where did they come from?" Bridget asked.

Gilmore emerged from the larder, wiping off his blade.

"My guess is the Wilds. It's funny, every epic tale my grandfather used to tell me started off with giant rats. They're supposed to be an omen of some sort."

Nan rolled her eyes.

"Oh hogwash. You two, the dog's out now, get back in there and start bringing out all the ingredients will you?"

"B-but the rats…"

Gilmore smiled at the two young elves.

"No need to worry, I've taken care of them. I must be off to the main hall now, Milady. Good day to you and a very merry birthday as well."

Gilmore left. Nan looked at Bridget and crossed her arms.

"You better enjoy this meal I've been slaving over all day." She stated.

Bridget smiled.

"I'm sure I will, Nan. I have to go and find Fergus now."

Nan nodded.

"Good, the less people here, the better. Keep an eye on that mangy mutt from now on will you? And here, don't say Nan never gives you anything." She said as she gave Zeus some scraps of meat.

He barked happily. Bridget bid her old nanny farewell as she and Zeus left the kitchens. Together, they turned the corner and made their way down the hall before Bridget ran into her mother and sister-in-law. Bridget could immediately tell something was…different between the two of them. They were both grinning widely after wishing Bridget a happy birthday.

"Something I should know about?" Bridget asked.

Oriana drew her brows together.

"I didn't want to tell anyone, not yet, especially not today because this is your day, but…I am with child!"

Bridget's eyes widened.

"Oriana, that's wonderful news! Congratulations!" she said as she hugged her tightly.

Oriana and Fergus wanted nothing more than to have a child and, five years ago, the Maker blessed them with Bridget's nephew, Oren. Oriana had had an exceedingly difficult time becoming pregnant, however, and suffered many miscarriages before she was able to have Oren. The midwife that delivered him was not sure if Oriana would be able to have any other children, but apparently, she was wrong.

"Have you told Fergus yet?" Eleanor asked.

Oriana shook her head.

"No, not yet. I do not want him worrying about me whilst he is away. I am going to tell him as soon as he returns home. I didn't want to make a big announcement about it on your birthday,"

Bridget shook her head.

"Oriana, this is absolutely wonderful, you shouldn't feel the need to hide it on account that it's my birthday. I am incredibly happy for you, and I know Fergus is going to be overjoyed when you tell him!"

Oriana smiled.

"Yes, I think so too!" she laughed.

Eleanor turned to Bridget.

"Now if you would just get married and have a child, I would finally be completely content! You can't let Oriana do all the work here, Bridget."

Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps someday, Mother, but no time soon, I can assure you of that."

Oriana turned to leave.

"I'm going to find Fergus and Oren. Last I left them, he handed Oren a wooden sword. I should go make sure the child has not broken anything. I will see you both later."

Bridget turned her attention back to her mother and sighed.

"Father wants me to find Fergus and tell him to ride out ahead of him tonight. Arl Howe's troops have been delayed due to the rains. He and father will file out to Ostagar tomorrow morning or afternoon as soon as they arrive."

Eleanor frowned.

"Howe knew of the King's wish for troops, he should have sent them out earlier. I do not understand why men believe they must ride into an encampment at the same time. Whether it is them reliving the 'glory' days or not, it's ridiculous. So long as the men are there, that is all that matters. You know I will be leaving in a few days myself to visit Lady Landra. Will you be alright here alone?"

Bridget drew her brows together.

"My place isn't behind a desk listening to praise and complaints, Mother. It's out there in the middle of battle. Why does father keep me here when I have trained for so long?"

Eleanor took Bridget's hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

"I know it is hard remaining behind while others go, my dear. But it is for the best. I believe your father would rather you be in a battle against real men, not these dark creatures."

Bridget sighed.

"I just want to prove myself, that's all. I want to prove to all the others who have sneered at me and have questioned you and father for letting me choose this path. I also really don't want you to go, Mother. Please, stay here with me and see Lady Landra some other time?"

Eleanor chuckled.

"Oh dear, it won't be for long. I'm to return to her castle with her, as she has come for your banquet tonight. It is not very often in which I get to see my friend."

Bridget nodded.

"You're right, I shouldn't have asked that of you. But part of me cannot help but worry. What happens if father,"

Eleanor shook her head.

"We will not speak of such things. Not until we have a need to address them." Her mother said quickly.

Bridget looked at her mother. She understood why she didn't want to think of the worst but knew very well that things could go awry on the battlefield. Regardless, she did not continue the conversation and walked past her mother.

"I need to go and tell Fergus about the change in plans. I'll see you in the dining hall soon." She stated.

Eleanor nodded.

"Do make sure to wear something nice this evening. I love you my darling girl."

Bridget smiled.

"I love you too, Mother."

Bridget followed in Oriana's wake and climbed the staircase. She entered the hall that carried her brother's bedchambers as well as her own and her parents'. Bridget heard Fergus before she ever reached his door. She entered his room and smiled at him playing with his son.

"When can I get a real swoard, Papa?" Oren asked.

Fergus knelt down in front of him and chuckled.

"That's 'sword', Oren. And don't you worry. You will get to see a real sword up close very soon. I'll bring you back one, I promise."

Oren brightened as he hugged his father and then went back to playing with his two wooden soldiers. Fergus stood and looked over at Bridget.

"Ah, baby sister. Still have not learned to knock, have you?" he joked.

Bridget crossed her arms.

"The door was clearly open, Fergus. Besides, I think I learned my lesson that one time I caught you and Oriana when I was twelve. I bring news: father wishes for you to ride out tonight ahead of him."

Fergus raised his eyebrows.

"So, the Arl's men are delayed. Hmm…this could complicate matters. I should probably be on my way now."

Bridget shook her head.

"No, Father said you could stay for the feast tonight." She stated.

Fergus looked at her.

"A lot of clouds have gathered in the sky since this morning, Bridget. I should really head off before it begins to rain."

"I think that's a good idea."

Bridget turned to see Bryce and Eleanor enter the room. Eleanor hugged Fergus tightly.

"Ride fast, Fergus. Send us a bird when you get there so that I won't worry?"

Fergus chuckled.

"Of course, I will Mother. Need not worry over me."

Bryce hugged him next, as did Oren and Oriana.

"Be safe, my husband. Please be safe."

Fergus kissed her gently and pulled away.

"You know me, love. I'm always one for safety."

She handed him his pack which Fergus threw over his shoulder. He turned to Bridget next and looked at her.

"Good luck running the castle while I'm gone. You're going to be so lost without my guidance."

Bridget punched him in the arm.

"Have fun sleeping out in the cold, and in the rain." She quipped.

Fergus chuckled.

"Ha, you're right. I wouldn’t mind if our positions were switched, to be honest. Regardless, try to keep things in shape around here. I'd hate to return to a burned down castle."

Bridget tipped her head to the side.

"Have you no faith in me at all? In all seriousness though…please be safe."

Fergus smiled and kissed his sister on her forehead.

"Always am. You be safe too."

He took one last look at his family before turning on his heel and heading out. Bridget drew her brows together and said a prayer to the Maker to keep her brother safe. Yet an odd sensation swept over her…one where she felt as if she may not see her brother again. Bridget brushed it off as just nerves and worry for her brother's safe arrival and thought no more of it. Bryce clapped his hands together.

"I believe it's time we head to your banquet, my dear. We will see you in the dining hall."

With that said, Bryce and the others left. Bridget made her way to her room as well to ready herself for her party. And quite a party it was. Nan was able to provide a splendid feast for everyone in attendance. Meat pies, potatoes, stew, freshly baked bread and numerous sweets from tarts to small cakes decorated the long table. There was much merriment and laughter as Bridget danced with her father, Howe, and even Percival. The old warrior was not only quick on his feet in the midst of battle, Bridget learned, as he danced an Orlesian Waltz with her. Her parents reminisced with Howe about times long past as everyone enjoyed the fine meal and dancing. As the night was winding down, Bridget felt the need for some fresh air. She stepped out onto the nearby balcony and was surprised to see Arl Howe outside. He quickly noticed her and put a smile on his face. Bridget, however, could see worry in his eyes.

"Is everything alright, Arl Howe?" she asked.

Howe nodded.

"Yes, my dear girl. I was just thinking about tomorrow."

Bridget drew her brows together.

"It has been on my mind as well. I am sure that you and father both will return unscathed, but…I just want to wish you well. I am worried for you both, but I know that you would do anything to protect my father, and he you. I believe my worries will be put to an end knowing that you will do everything in your power to make sure that you and my father both are protected. Be safe."

She surprised him by hugging him tightly. It took a moment for Howe to respond.

"I…thank you. I will do all I can to ensure his…protection." He replied softy.

Bridget pulled back and smiled.

"I am sure that you will. I suppose I should head back inside; I think I hear mother calling me. It's time for me to receive my parent's gifts. Rest well tonight, Arl Howe. Once you and father return, we must have a celebration that is twice as large as this one."

Howe nodded and said nothing more. Bridget reentered the dining hall and caught Willem's eyes with hers as she made her way towards the head of the table. He traveled his eyes down the curves of her body, taking in the rare sight of her in a dress. It was blue in color and clung to her figure in a way that accentuated her assets, but still left much to the imagination. The dress itself was made out of the finest silk from Antiva. Bridget winked at Willem as she passed by him and smiled as she heard his soft chuckle. As Bridget reached her parents, Bryce and Eleanor stood so that the guests would have their full attention. Eleanor held out her hand for Bridget, who took it gently in hers and stood next to her.

"As you all know, my daughter is not a traditional lady. Instead of learning how to sing and to sew, she wanted a sword and a shield in her hands. She has trained remarkably hard for the past ten years, and I believe it is time I reward her efforts. I am told that Ser Percival has already bestowed one gift to you, my dear. But I have another."

Bryce snapped his fingers and two of his banner men entered the room. One carried a very elongated box, similar to the box that Percival had presented to her earlier, but instead of the fancy swirls carved into it, this one was baring the Cousland insignia. The other man was also carrying a box that was identical to that one, save for the shape. This box was large and rectangular. Both men approached Bridget and bowed their heads as they presented her the boxes. Bryce walked towards them and lifted the lid of the first box.

"I wish to give you my sword, Bridget. This sword has been in our family for quite some time since your great grandfather. It is effective and made from the finest steel. With it, I also present you our family shield," Bryce said as he removed the lid of the next box. It too was made of the strongest steel in Ferelden and bared the Cousland insignia. Bryce turned to look at his daughter, who had tears in her eyes.

"You have worked so hard, pup. You have truly earned these two weapons. Wield them proudly. Wield them well."

Bridget threw her arms around her father and hugged him tightly as their guests cheered.

"Thank you, father. But do you not need your sword for the battle at Ostagar?"

Bryce chuckled and shook his head.

"No, I do not. I have had a new one crafted that will suit me just fine. It is time I pass this on to you, my dear. You have shown great prowess and determination. I could not be prouder of you."

Bridget smiled.

"This is the greatest honor. Thank you."

Eleanor then stepped forward holding a much smaller box. She smiled at her daughter and said,

"I may not have always approved of you spending your days outside in the harsh weather, beating a straw practice target, but I am equally as proud of you as your father is. I wish to give you this, my dear. This was the first gift your father ever gave me. I wish for you to have it. When you look at it, I want you to remember our love for each other, and our love for you and our family."

Eleanor handed her gift to Bridget. She opened it and gazed at the ring that lay inside. The band was made of pure silver and carried a beautiful sapphire stone. Bridget picked it up and slid it on her middle finger of her left hand.

"Thank you for this, mother. I shall cherish it forever." Bridget stated as she hugged her mother.

Eleanor hugged her back and felt tears brim her eyes. When Bridget pulled away, she turned to address the other guests. Duncan smiled at her and bowed his head whereas Lady Landra and her son, Dairren, lifted their glasses to drink in her honor.

"Thank you all for attending this banquet not only to celebrate my two decades the Maker blessed me, but to also wish my father, Arl Howe, and their men a safe journey to the ruins of Ostagar. May they fight these dark creatures fiercely and return to us and their families unscathed, unharmed, and unbroken." The guests cheered happily in agreement. They each then began to bid their farewells. Once everyone filed out to either leave or return to their rooms, Bridget bid her parents both a good night.

"Please be careful tomorrow, Father. I will miss you."

Bryce stroked his daughter's hair and chuckled.

"Fear not, Pup. I will not be gone for long. But I will miss you too. I will look forward to returning and seeing your smiling face…both of your smiling faces." He said as he hugged Eleanor as well.

"Let us head off to bed, Bryce. You need all the sleep you can get." She stated.

Bryce shook his head.

"I'll be up in a bit, my love. Rendon and I must speak about a few things first. I will not be long."

Bridget and Eleanor watched him leave the room. Eleanor took her daughter's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Well, I am off to bed. You should go too; you have a very busy day ahead of you in the morning. Goodnight, my dear."

Bridget nodded in agreement. In truth, she was exhausted, although she hadn't forgotten Willem's promise to come and see her. Once she was back in her room, she dressed into her night shift and waited for him. The minutes ticked by and with each passing one, Bridget grew more tired. Zeus had already curled himself up at the foot of her bed and was sleeping soundly. Bridget felt her eyelids grow heavy and just as she was about to drift into the Fade…she heard Zeus growl. Bridget drew her brows together and rubbed her eyes.

"Zeus, what is it?" she asked softly.

As Bridget's eyes focused to the darkness of the room, she noticed Zeus clawing at her door and growling menacingly. Bridget swiftly got out of bed and grabbed one of her daggers. She heard movement outside her door and noticed a figure was standing outside of it as it partially blocked out the light from the hanging torches outside. Something in Bridget's gut told her it wasn't Willem who was outside her door. And she was right. Not even a moment later, the intruder rammed her door with his shoulder and broke into her room. Bridget was briefly surprised before Zeus jumped into action and bit the intruder in the leg. He howled in pain, alerting his partner in the process. Since Zeus was still trying to protect his mistress from one man, he couldn't go after the other. He swung his broadsword at Bridget, but she dodged quickly. For a brief second, she was scared.

She had never been in a situation like this before. Training scenarios yes, but her sparring partners never came at her to kill her. But this man…Bridget could see it in his eyes. He intended to slit her throat and think nothing more of it. She gripped her small dagger tightly in her hand and charged towards him. She side stepped his swing and buried her dagger in the side of his neck. Bridget pulled it out quickly and felt his warm blood coat her hand. She turned and kicked the other intruder in the head, as he had been thrown to the ground by Zeus. Bridget quickly dressed and grabbed her father's sword and shield. She then made sure Patience et Persévérance was placed securely in it's scabbard. After sheathing her two daggers, she bent over the man she stabbed and swallowed. He wasn't dead yet, but he was close. His blood was seeping across the stone floor, delving into the cracks. His body was twitching slightly until he moved no longer. Bridget stared down at him. She had killed a man. Taken the most precious thing away from him. Bridget didn't know what she was supposed to feel. She didn't feel sorry for him because he had tried to take her life as well. Instead, she bent down and rolled him over. Bridget's eyes widened as she noticed the insignia emblazoned on his small wooden shield.

"That is Arl Howe's sigil. But…I don't understand…"

Bridget heard footsteps again and quickly stood and drew her blade. Her mother ran into her room, bow at the ready and sighed, relieved that Bridget was unharmed. Bridget lowered her sword. She ran towards her and hugged her tightly.

"Thank the Maker you're alright." Eleanor said as she held her daughter close.

Bridget pulled away and shook her head.

"Mother, these are Howe's men. Where is Father?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"I do not know; he never came to bed. I do know that I will kill Howe myself, the bloody traitor. We need to go and find your father, now!" she said frantically.

Bridget's eyes widened.

"Mother, what about Oriana and Oren?"

Bridget noticed the color in her mother's face drain.

"What if they went to your brother's room first?"

Bridget gripped her father's sword and hurried out of the room with Zeus at her heels. She ran across the hall and threw open the door to Fergus's room. Another man came up the stairs just as Bridget made it to the door. Her mother engaged him in combat so she could rescue Oriana and Oren…but she was too late. Bridget felt her blood turn to ice as she witnessed the carnage in front of her. Oriana was being stabbed repeatedly in her stomach. Bridget turned to the side to find Oren cowering in the corner. She grabbed him and blocked the blow that Oriana's attacker threw at her. Oren was screaming and crying.

"When I tell you to run, you run, Oren! Mother is outside, you run to her and you stay with her!" Bridget shouted.

She returned her attention to her attacker and rammed him with her shield.

"Go now!" she shouted as she raised her blade and thrust it into his chest. Howe's guard coughed up blood as Bridget pulled her blade out. Bridget turned around to follow Oren, but stopped abruptly as she noticed he was in the arms of another one of Howe's men. Her mother was in the back, fighting off another attacker. Zeus leapt forward and pounced on the man that was attacking Eleanor, biting him deeply in the side of his neck. Before Bridget or her mother could do anything, the guard holding Oren slit his throat and then pushed his body away from him as if he were a disgusting creature, not an innocent child. Bridget cried as she ran forward, dropping her father's sword and pulling out her dagger.

The large man was too slow to block her and she knocked him to the ground. Straddling him, she stabbed him repeatedly in his chest, scattering his blood all over her face, clothes, and the floor. Bridget could hear her mother's cries as she ran to her grandson and cradled him in her arms. Bridget stabbed the man that killed her nephew one final time, twisted her dagger in him, and then slowly pulled it out. She then looked over her shoulder at her mother, who was shaking with anger and sadness.

"My boy…my precious, sweet baby boy…" she whispered softly as she brushed his dark hair, the same shade as Fergus's, out of his cold, dead eyes.

Bridget stood and walked over to her mother. She fell to her knees and said,

"I did this. I told him to run, I didn't know that another guard had come up the stairs…I drove him to his death!"

Eleanor looked up at Bridget and shook her head. She placed her bloodied hand to the side of her daughter's face and said,

"No. Do not blame yourself for this. You could not have known. Howe isn't taking any hostages…he means to kill us all! That bastard. Come, we must find your father."

Eleanor laid Oren gently down on the ground and swallowed. Bridget picked up her sword and shield once again. Zeus stood by his mistress's side and together, all three of them descended the staircase. The scene downstairs was no different than upstairs. Bodies of both Howe's traitorous guards as well as some of Bryce's men scattered the halls. The air was thick with smoke as the castle was burning. Along the way to the main hall, Bridget ran into some of her father's men. They helped her and her mother dispatch any of Howe's guards that they ran into along the way. As they finally made it to the main hall, Bridget found Percival, Willem, and Gilmore engaged in battle while five other guards were trying to keep the main doors closed. Bridget, Eleanor, and Zeus.

There was a mage present that was causing all sorts of problems. Bridget decided to go for him first, yet when she tried to attack him, he conjured a protective field around him. She knew it eventually had to go away, after all, magic is never constant. Mages run out of their powers just as warriors run out of their stamina. The moment the mage faltered from lack of strength; Bridget charged. She ran him through with her blade and bashed him with her shield for good measure. With the mage out of the way, the rest of the battle continued. Bridget helped Gilmore take on a dual weapon rogue and couldn’t evade him fast enough. He cut her arm with his dagger. Bridget winced in pain, but continued to fight on, even though she could feel her blood coating her arm. Once their enemies lay dead, they regrouped in the middle of the room. Willem quickly tried to bandage Bridget's arm and did so, bit it was bandaged poorly and would not last long. For now, however, it would do.

"Have you seen Bryce?" Eleanor asked worriedly.

Percival nodded.

"Yes, he said he was going to try and escape through the servant's entrance in the kitchen. He looks bad though, Milady. You must hurry. Willem, Gilmore and I along with the rest of the men here will try to bar the door, but we do not possess the strength of oxen. They will break it. You must hurry, go now!" he stated.

Eleanor nodded and hurried away. Bridget threw her arms around Willem and kissed him deeply.

"Get to safety, Bridget. And know that no matter what happens here…I love you and you have been the greatest joy in my life."

Bridget fought back her tears as she hugged Percival next.

"Go, little bird. I will not let them take you or your family. Go. Be swift like the wind and hard like the stone. And remember what I said so long ago: keep your emotions intact while you fight your battles. It is only after you win in which you mourn or celebrate."

Bridget nodded. Gilmore had already ran back to the door. Percival and Willem followed him. She caught up with her mother and Zeus and together, they barged into the kitchens. Nan and her elven helpers lay slain against the cold stone floor. Bridget noticed Nan was gripping a kitchen knife in her hand and was comforted by the fact that her nanny didn't go down without a fight. Eleanor opened the door that led to a small room near the servant's exit.

"Bryce!" she gasped.

Bridget ran in behind her, followed by Zeus. Bridget's eyes widened. Her father lay in front of her eyes, bloodied and beaten. Blood coated his finery, and more was slowly spilling out of him where he lay. Eleanor ran to his side and held his hand.

"My loves…thank the Maker you are both alright." Bryce said. His voice was weak, and he was so, so pale.

Bridget knelt by her mother.

"Come father, we must go. Mother and I will help you stand. We must get you out of here!"

Bryce shook his head.

"No Pup I…ack…I do not believe I will survive the standing…"

Eleanor drew her brows together and squeezed her husband's hand.

"Howe did this, my love. He's betrayed us all. Slaughtered us all…but not you, not me, and not our daughter. Come now, we can get you healing magic. But you must stand, we must leave before they break down the gates!"

"Then you will need to move quickly."

Bridget looked over her shoulder to see a bloodied Duncan stepping into the room. Bridget sighed in relief.

"I am glad you're okay, Duncan. Please help us move my father, he will not listen to us!"

Bryce shook his head.

"There is no hope for me. Duncan, please…take my wife and daughter to Ostagar. Take them to Fergus and tell him what has happened here. Please do this for me, I ask you as a friend."

Duncan stared down at Bryce and sighed.

"I will do this, but I am compelled to ask for something else in return."

Bridget cut her eyes at Duncan. Before she could say anything, he continued.

"The Darkspawn that are stirring in the Korcari Wilds are but a fraction of what is to come. The impending Blight sent me here in search of a recruit. The fate of Ferelden demands that I leave with one." He said as he turned his gaze to Bridget.

Bryce winced and nodded.

"I…I understand."

Bridget shook her head.

"No! We can still get you help, Father! Please just stand up, Duncan can carry you if he must, I won't just leave you here!"

Bryce took Bridget's hand and held it in his as best as he could.

"Bridget, listen to me. You have always wanted to fight in battle…and I have always held you back. This is your chance. Fight for me, fight for us!"

Bridget felt her lip quiver.

"But father…"

In the distance, she could hear the gates giving way and heard the battle cries of what remained of her father's men.

"Darling, go with Duncan. I will only slow you down. I will stay here with your father…and die with him just as I promised him I would in our vows."

Bridget shook her head.

"No, I can't lose both of you! Please don't make me do this!"

Bryce looked at her.

"Live for us, Bridget. Find your brother and with him, deliver Howe a justice that he deserves. And remember that we…we love you. You are everything I could have asked for in a daughter and so, so much more. I predicted when you were a child that you were destined for greatness…it is now time for you to go and achieve the greatness that you seek."

Bridget drew her brows together.

"But I don't want to leave you…"

Eleanor pushed some of Bridget's hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

"We will always be with you, darling. Now go, before it's too late."

Duncan pulled on Bridget's shoulders to get her to stand. As she did, he took her face in his hands and looked her straight in the eye.

"Whatever you do, do not look back. Don't do it. Do you understand?"

Bridget closed her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I love you both, so much." She said, her voice shaky.

Eleanor felt tears fall from her eyes.

"Then go and live, Bridget. Live the life you have always dreamed of, but one that we never let you experience. And know that we will be with you every step of the way."

Bridget took a deep breath and nodded at Duncan. He took her hand in hers and together, with Zeus at her heels, they both ran out of the servant's entrance. Bridget heeded Duncan's words and did not look back, despite her urge to. She could hear the clashing of metal upon metal, steel upon steel. She could hear the cries of both her father's men and Howe's. She could smell ash and smoke in the air. But worst of all, she could smell death. As they ran down the path that led into town, Duncan ran to his horse and mounted it. He pulled Bridget atop it with him and thrashed the reigns. His horse galloped away, leaving behind a dusty trail of gravel. Zeus ran next to them keeping up. Bridget held onto Duncan tightly as they maneuvered through the town. Still Bridget did not look back. With each gallop the horse took, her guilt grew.

Bridget and Duncan made it all the way to West Hill before she could no longer swallow the bile that continued to rise in her throat. Bridget alerted Duncan that they had to stop as she was going to be sick. Duncan pulled back on his horse’s reigns and Bridget slid off the animal quickly, fell to her hands and knees, and regurgitated everything she had eaten only a few hours earlier. She coughed and spit and continued to empty the contents of her stomach until her body wretched with only heaves. Bridget took a deep breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked up and her lip trembled. The dark blanket of the night sky was illuminated with orange and red hues from the raging fire at Castle Cousland. The screams from the townspeople and those within the castle were faint, but the wind carried them to Bridget’s ears. Bridget’s face twisted in anguish as she beat the ground harshly with her hands.

           “NO!” she screamed.

The family of birds in the nearby tree flew away, startled by the sound of her cry. Duncan ran to Bridget’s side as she shook with sobs and kept hitting the ground, scattering bits of dirt and earth.

           “NO! NO! MAKER…WHY!?” She cried.

Duncan pulled Bridget into his chest as she sobbed and screamed into the crook of his neck. He knew there was nothing he could say, so he held her and patted her shoulder as she let everything out. Bridget’s cries were heart wrenching, even Duncan felt a lump in his throat as he tried his best to comfort the young girl. After some time, the sobs stopped. Bridget simply did not have any tears left. Her body was absolutely exhausted from fighting her way through her castle to enduring the emotional turmoil of hearing the dying screams of her loved ones. She swallowed and pulled slightly away from Duncan. Dried vomit coated her mouth and chin, her face was streaked with dirt, blood, and tears. Duncan offered her his wineskin, but Bridget shook her head and pushed it away.

           “You must drink, or you will become dehydrated.” Duncan urged softly.

Bridget swallowed and winced. Her throat was sore and dry from the vomit and screaming. With a shaky hand, she took Duncan’s canteen and brought it to her lips. The cool water was extremely refreshing and coated her dry mouth and throat. She swallowed and winced again but acknowledged that the water did help her throat feel slightly better. Bridget looked up at Duncan and searched his eyes. Duncan felt so pitiful for this child before him…and the things he knew she would have to face. He placed his hand to the side of her face and wiped away another tear with his thumb.

           “I know that nothing I say will ease your pain. I wish that my words could heal…but they cannot. The only thing I can tell you is that you must take the memory of your family and let it drive you to fight each Darkspawn back to the Deep Roads from which they came. The trials ahead will be tumultuous, milady. But I know that you can do it. You have your father’s spirit and your mother’s heart. They raised you well.”

Bridget looked back at the direction of her castle and sighed. Quite frankly, she didn’t care about the Darkspawn now. All she wanted was vengeance. She looked back at Duncan.

           “I want to kill him.” She said softly.

Duncan nodded.

           “I agree, he needs to die for his crimes. Once we reach Ostagar, I promise you that we will speak to the king.”

Bridget licked her lips and looked down.

           “I’ve never felt so much…rage before. I want him to die by my hands, Duncan. I want him to burn the way my father is burning now. I want to watch his worthless life slip slowly away from him in the most painful way possible. I want to hurt him. I want his head on the tip of a spike…and to carry it throughout his small castle so that all could see that he failed. He did not kill all the Cousland family. I am here…I survived…and he is now marked for death.”

Duncan squeezed Bridget’s shoulders.

           “Aye, young one. Do not let this revenge cloud your eyes, but I assure you that justice will be sought. Help me by joining the Wardens, Bridget…we need you.”

Bridget took a deep breath and nodded. Duncan stood and held his hand out to Bridget. She grasped his forearm and vaulted herself from the ground. Bridget took another swig from Duncan’s canteen and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked back at her castle once more and squared her shoulders.

           “Do you hear that, Rendon Howe? That is the sound of a clock ticking away until I come for you. Tick. Tock. Tick, tock, you bastard. You have awakened a raging storm within me, and it will not cease until I slit your throat and spill your traitorous blood. Tis only a matter of time before I reach you.” She swore.

Bridget turned back to Duncan, a new fire in her eyes.

           “How long before we reach Ostagar?” she asked.

Duncan patted his horse.

           “Three days, two and a half if we ride fast.” He stated.

Bridget approached Duncan and bowed her head to him.

           “You have my sword, Duncan. I would be honored to join the Grey Wardens. I just hope that I will prove worthy.”

Duncan squeezed her shoulders again and nodded.

           “You already have, dear girl. You already have. Come, let us put some distance between us, we can ride for some time and make camp once we are further away.”

Bridget became hopeful for a moment as a thought crossed her mind.

           “Duncan…do you think Fergus made it?” she asked softly.

Duncan mounted his horse and helped pull Bridget up behind him.

           “I cannot say for certain; I do not know if Howe had someone follow him when he left the castle, but we know his destination was Ostagar. We will find out as soon as we arrive. But if he did not…that would make you the last of the Couslands, milady. It would be up to you to make sure everyone remembers your family name.”

Bridget closed her eyes and held on to that little bright light of hope of Fergus being alive, though she dreaded telling him what had transpired in his absence. Bridget held onto Duncan tightly as he whistled at his horse and thrashed the reigns. They galloped away from Highever, the wind whipping through their hair. Zeus barked and kept up beside them. Howe did not know the fire he ignited within Bridget, nor did he know of her determination. She was coming for him. His days were numbered. Howe was under the impression that all the Couslands were dead…but this was obviously not true. Bridget lived. And she would not rest until his heart was on her blade and his head was skewered on a spike.

As they continued to gallop into the night, Bridget didn't look back. The image of her home burning would be forever imprinted in her mind. The screams and cries of those that died would forever ring in her ears…but she would avenge them. All of them. As Duncan said, Bridget was the last of the Couslands. It was her job to make sure no one forgot that sacred family name…and she would see to it that no one did.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

The Ruins of Ostagar

Kingsway 9:30 Dragon

Ostagar

One week. It had been one week since Duncan had left for Highever to find some recruits and he had still not returned. With each passing day, Alistair's worry grew. Of course, he was just being silly, Duncan could certainly handle any trouble he may have gotten into. But still, something did not sit well with the junior member of the Order. The rains had come and had not let up for a moment. It was either pouring or drizzling, there were no clear skies in between. With the rains, colder air came as well, and Alistair wanted nothing more than to be indoors. He longed to sit by a nice, warm fire accompanied with a steaming bowl of soup or porridge, but this was the life of a soldier, of a warrior, and of a Warden. Such idle fancies were few and far between, especially during a time of war. So far, Alistair had been kept out of the two battles against the Darkspawn that occurred already. Why he was kept out of the battles, he wasn't sure. Since the final battle, the one that would hopefully drive the monstrous creatures back from whence they came would take place soon, Alistair was sure he would get to participate in that one. The army was large, but many men had fallen ill due to the Taint from the Darkspawn blood. Some were downright frightened to go back into battle because they did not want to look at the dark creatures once again.

           "You! Boy, may I speak with you?"

Alistair turned to find a Revered Mother of a Chantry walking towards him. She, along with some Sisters from numerous Chantries had accompanied the men to provide prayer and to help with injuries. Alistair looked around to make sure she was directing her question to him and then looked back at her.

           "Ah…yes, what can I help you with?"

The Mother looked at Alistair and said,

           "I need you to tell Ulric, the head mage here, that I request his presence immediately."

Alistair drew his brows together.

           "Um…no offense, but is it possible you can get someone else to do it? I'm a Grey Warden you see and I,"

The Mother shot Alistair a haughty look that silenced him on the spot. He nodded.

           "Right. Go and tell Ulric you need to speak with him. Got it." He stated.

She bowed her head to him and walked back to her tent. Alistair was about to go and find the mage in question when he heard a horn blowing. Someone had been spotted on the bridge. Was it Duncan? Alistair hurried towards the bridge and stood next to the guard stationed there.

           "Is that Duncan?" he asked hopefully.

The guard looked through his spyglass and nodded.

           "Aye. That's him and looks like he's got someone with him as well as a mabari. Great. Just what this camp needs. More dogs howling at the moon tonight." He said grumpily.

Alistair eagerly waited for Duncan's arrival. The stone bridge that connected Ostagar from the road was a rather long one, and Duncan's horse was moving slow. Alistair grinned as Duncan finally trotted towards the entrance, but his smile faded as he looked at the senior Warden. Duncan looked exhausted and he was covered in blood, dirt, and grime. Duncan gently pulled on his horse’s reigns and the animal neighed and came to a halt. He dismounted with a grunt and ran a hand down his face. Alistair approached him cautiously, dozens of questions prepared to tumble from his lips. Duncan looked tiredly at Alistair and held up his hand.

           “Later, we need to drink and eat first.” He stated.

Alistair gave Duncan a confused glance before Duncan turned and helped whoever had been riding with him off his horse. The figure had their hood pulled up, but a strong gust of wind blew by and pushed the hood off their head. Alistair blinked as he noticed Duncan’s partner was a young woman, who was equally covered in just as much, if not more dried blood, dirt, and grime. She stretched the muscles in her arms and legs briefly before she thanked Duncan for helping her off the horse.

The mysterious woman then turned her attention to Alistair. The first feature he noted were the woman’s striking blue eyes. An almost abnormal shade of blue, Alistair felt as though he was staring into the depths of the sea. A gentle dusting of freckles decorated her face, though Alistair realized that could have just been more dirt or dried blood. The girl’s hair was a matted mess and Alistair couldn’t quite make out the color, though he assumed it was blonde. The pair of them looked worse for wear, and left Alistair to wonder what on Thedas could have happened to them.

Bridget looked up at the towering ruins of Ostagar as she followed Duncan and another young man further into the ruins. One could easily tell that a battalion was camped here. Tents upon tents of varying sizes and decorum stood proudly in the encampment. Dozens of soldiers, mages, and people from other walks of life alike were engrossed in various tasks. Some were eating, others were tending to wounds, a few were burying the dead. The air was filled with chatter, the clinking of metal from the blacksmith’s repair stand, and the groans of those who had been injured. As Bridget progressed further into the camp, they came upon a small stage area where a Mother of the Chantry was offering prayers and blessings to the soldiers before her. The Sisters walked amongst the men and women with bowls of Blessed Water and dipped their thumbs in them to mark the soldiers’ foreheads with a symbol while they whispered a prayer of protection.

Bridget had never been to an encampment before, but this one looked just as she imagined it would. Though, in all her childhood daydreams, she had never once really thought about the smells of one and realized that it was not very pleasant. Soon, Bridget, Duncan, and Duncan’s companion approached a rather large, orange tent. Duncan went inside quickly and returned with an older woman at his side. She had light blue eyes and a truly kind face.

           “Bridget, this is Wynne. She’s one of the head mages here. She will take care of you and heal any wounds you may have. Stay with her for now while I tend to a few things and Alistair, or I will retrieve you once we have secured our audience with his Majesty.”

Bridget then turned her attention to the young man who had been following her and Duncan throughout the camp. He gave her a small smile and bowed his head to her. Once he lifted his head, their eyes locked. Though neither one of them knew, the bonds of fate had just been tied. As they stared at each other, the universe shifted, though felt by no one. These two would play a particularly important role in not only each other’s lives, but the fate of Ferelden. Alistair had honey-colored eyes and a rather regal nose to be just a common soldier, Bridget thought. He had a strong jaw and looked to be very fit. He was quite tall, and Bridget found him to look a little goofy. She bowed her head to him before she turned to Wynne.

           "You look as if you have been through a great deal, my child. Come with me, I'll see to it that you are taken care of."

Wynne gently placed her arm around Bridget and helped her walk into the tent. Alistair stared after them and then turned his attention to Duncan.

           “Maker’s breath what happened to you two?” he asked worriedly.

Duncan ushered for Alistair to follow him to the Grey Wardens’ tent. Though they were the only two Wardens present, King Cailain wanted to ensure that they were comfortable. He walked over to a nearby water basin and grasped the pitcher of water. Duncan poured it gently into the large bowl and began to splash his face. Alistair sat on a nearby stool as he eagerly waited for what Duncan had to say.

           "We've just come back from a massacre. Bridget…she's the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland. The only Cousland to survive the slaughter of her family."

Alistair's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock as Duncan recounted the bloody tale of his and Bridget's escape. How a man could grow so green with envy, that he would kill his friend and his entire family…Alistair did not understand. Duncan walked over to him and rested his hand on his shoulder. Alistair looked up at him.

           "I need you to be a friend to her, Alistair. Bridget has lost everything. She’s a strong girl, but I cannot even begin to imagine what a tragedy such as this could do to someone. Be gentle with her, even if she lashes out. She is hurt, and I am not sure if she will ever truly recover.”

Alistair nodded.

           “Of course, I’ll do everything that I can to make her feel welcome here.” He vowed.

Duncan smiled graciously at him.

           “Thank you, Alistair. Go and wait for her outside the mages’ tent and once she's finished, bring her back here. We must speak with the king to tell him what has happened."

Alistair stood and heeded Duncan's words. He made his way back through the camp towards the mages' tent and noticed Bridget's Mabari sitting outside. He approached the hound and smiled.

           "Won't let you in, will they?" he asked.

Zeus whimpered in reply. Alistair chuckled.

           "Well if they won't let you in, I'm sure I won't get in either. Are you hungry, boy? I am assuming you're a boy. Here, I've got a little something you can snack on."

Alistair said as he reached into his pack and pulled out a piece of dried meat. He held out his hand. Zeus put his ears down and approached him cautiously. He sniffed Alistair's hand tentatively before licking his fingers and downing the small piece of meat in one bite. Zeus then barked happily and nudged Alistair's hand. Alistair knelt and petted Zeus, who then rolled on his back and wanted a belly rub. Alistair chuckled.

           "Ah, well I can see that you are indeed a boy. I hope you've got a good strong name. Something like Mr. Nibbles just wouldn't do for you."

Unknown to Alistair, Bridget had been watching his exchange with Zeus. She was rather intrigued. Zeus very rarely let anyone else pet him other than herself and Bryce. To see him take to Alistair so quickly was rather surprising.

           "His name is Zeus." Bridget stated softly as she emerged from the shadows of the tent.

Alistair looked up at her and gave her a friendly smile. Wynne had not only healed whatever injuries Bridget had, but she also allowed her to clean up and acquired her some better armor. It was still leather, however, but she looked slightly more comfortable than before. She wore a long cotton shirt with a leather cuirass over it as well as a pair of thick leggings and leather boots that stretched up to her knees. She also sported a pair of leather gauntlets and greaves to provide extra protection. Bridget's hair had been washed and was left hanging long, though Alistair noticed small braids in some parts of it. She still looked tired, but her gaze was more focused now than it was before. Without all the dried dirt and blood coating her face, Alistair noted that she was very pretty. He stood.

            "That's incredibly unique. I have never heard of it before. I'm glad to see that you've been healed." He replied.

Bridget nodded, though looked distant.

           "Wynne was exceedingly kind to me. She was able to patch me up very well. We were not properly introduced before. My name is Bridget Cousland."

Alistair bowed slightly.

           "It is a pleasure to meet you, Milady Cousland. My name is Alistair. I am a junior member of the Order and a new Warden myself." He stated proudly.

Bridget swallowed.

           "Please, you don't need to do that. You may call me Bridget, same as everyone else. I am no lady. Not anymore."

Alistair tipped his head to the side.

           “Beg pardon, ma’am but you are every bit a lady to me. I…wait, that came out wrong, I didn’t mean anything by that.” He stumbled over his words, embarrassed.

The corner of Bridget’s mouth twitched slightly at Alistair’s bashfulness. She held up her hand.

           “I did not perceive that as an innuendo of any kind, you’re fine.” She assured.

Alistair took a deep breath and let it out and rubbed the back of his neck.

           “Oh! Well, that’s good…because you look like you could easily overpower me, and I don’t want to get hurt. Or slapped. I bruise easily, you know.”

Bridget gave Alistair a coy look.

           “Are you trying to make me laugh or is this how you usually converse with strangers?” she asked seriously.

Alistair shrugged.

           “What can I say, I was blessed with the gift of gab and a good sense of humor, but I have been known to stick my foot in my mouth from time to time…and I’ve paid for it. I wouldn’t recommend it; feet are not delectable in the least bit.”

Bridget smirked ever so slightly, to which Alistair gave a sheepish grin in response.

           “At any rate, I need to get you to the king’s tent per Duncan. You have been granted an audience with him. We best hurry, it’s not good to keep him waiting. He gets cranky easily, and then he’ll start to cry.”

Bridget gave Alistair a quizzical look as she followed him throughout the camp.

           “Do you always make jokes like this?” she asked.

Alistair flashed her a toothy grin.

           "Someone's got to do it. Else we'll all be boring and grumpy. I'm full of these things. I could go on all day, as a matter of fact. But to spare your nerves, I limit myself to at least five jokes a day. But certain situations require I be spontaneous and make one on the spot."

Alistair was surprised to see the corners of her mouth twitch up into a smile. It was gone within a second, but it was there. As they approached the King's tent, Alistair nodded towards Duncan. He then turned his attention back to Bridget.

           "Well, here we are. I must go and hunt down a mage and deliver a message that I should have given at least an hour ago. If you come find me after you meet with the King, I'll show you around camp and introduce you to the other recruits."

Bridget nodded and watched Alistair as he walked away. Zeus was tempted to follow him for more food but remained by his mistress's side. Bridget returned her attention to Duncan who approached her.

           “Milady, you look as if Wynne treated you well.” He stated.

Bridget nodded.

           “Yes, she was truly kind to me. She reminded me a little of my Nan but without the harsh temperament. Can we see the king now?” she asked eagerly.

Duncan nodded and ushered her forward.

           “Yes. Let us meet King Cailan.”

Duncan and Bridget walked forward to the largest, most decorative tent there was. Unlike the others, this one was rather colorful. It was a bright teal color. Outside the tent, two banners with mabari heads emblazoned on them were dancing with the wind. Two guards standing outside the tent parted to allow them both to enter. Duncan raised the flap and allowed Bridget to enter first. Inside, there was a large wooden table with a map of Ferelden spread across it. Atop the map, the King had placed several small statuettes across it. Some represented his garrison whilst others represented the Darkspawn. King Cailan was studying the map closely and didn't hear Bridget or Duncan enter. His hair was golden blonde, much like his father’s was. He kept it long but pulled back some strands to keep it out of his eyes. He moved one of the figures on the table across the way a bit and then happened to glance upwards.

           "Ah Duncan, it is good to see that you have returned safely. You were gone much longer than I expected. Did you gain any recruits?"

Duncan nodded.

           "I have, Majesty, this is she."

Cailan drifted his gaze to Bridget and raised his eyebrows.

           "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere. You are Teyrn Bryce's youngest are you not? Your brother arrived here nearly two days ago,"

Bridget's eyes widened as her heart leapt to her throat.

           "Fergus is here? Is he alright? Can I see him?" she asked quickly.

Cailan shook his head.

           "I'm sorry, he's out on a scouting mission in the Wilds. You look troubled, Milady, is something wrong?"

Duncan looked at Cailan.

           "Arl Howe turned traitor against Bridget and her family. He told the Teyrn that his men were delayed when in fact, they were lying in wait. They struck at nightfall and slaughtered everyone. It was a miracle that Bridget and I managed to escape."

Cailan dropped his gaze and shook his head.

           "This is absurd. I cannot believe Arl Howe would do something like this."

He looked up at Bridget and she noted the kindness in his soft green eyes.

           "I am sorry that this happened to you, Milady. Terribly sorry." He stated.

Bridget frowned. Apologies would do her no good. Apologies would not bring her family back.

           "I want justice for this." She replied coldly.

Cailan nodded.

           "And justice you shall receive. Once this battle is won, I will see that Howe pays for his crimes."

Bridget narrowed her eyes.

           "What will you do to him?" she asked curiously.

Cailan drew his brows together, unsure of what to say. He knew that Bridget wanted blood for what Howe did, but as a King who was constantly scrutinized for every decision he made, he simply couldn't go around beheading people. Well, he could, but he wanted to keep his executions as clean and as quick as possible.

           "Well, he will hang of course." He stated.

Bridget's eyes widened slightly. She then slammed her fist down on the wooden table so hard, it shook the small figures placed along the map. Some even fell over.

           "No! That is not good enough! Hanging is for thieves and petty criminals alike! This man robbed Ferelden of one of its only two Teyrns! I want him stripped of his titles and I want Amaranthine and it’s surrounding lands granted back to me. I want him to suffer as my father suffered. I want him beaten until he is but a breath away from death. I want him to burn just as he burned those trapped within the walls of my castle but most of all, I want his head on a spike. I want it sent back to his traitorous family! He murdered innocent men, women, and children including an unborn child. And you intend to hang him? No. Hanging him would be a kindness, and I am in no position to show an ounce of kindness to that man.”

           "Bridget, you can't just demand that,"

Duncan tried to intervene, but Bridget cut him off.

           "If you do not help me, I will do this myself. I will see him dead by my hands. I can promise you that. You have no idea what I am capable of, King Cailan. Remember there was once a time where the people of Ferelden longed for my father to be king instead of you. Think of how many would rally behind his only surviving child to take back her lands and to kill the man that took the honest and good Teyrn Bryce Cousland away from them. I will lay siege to Amaranthine if I must, but I will see that man ruined and I will see him dead whether you help me or not."

           "Is that a threat?" Cailan asked as he leaned forward, intrigued by her passion.

Bridget frowned.

           "I do not make threats, King Cailan. I make promises. And my father taught me to always, always keep my promises."

Bridget bowed to her king respectfully before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the tent. Duncan and Cailan stared after her. A moment later, Cailan raised his eyebrows and whistled.

           "She's as fierce as a mighty dragon. Something tells me she's as dangerous as one too. I don't know if I should be worried over her threat of civil war or impressed by her sheer willpower and determination." He mused.

Duncan smiled slightly.

           "If Howe meant to crush her spirit with his attack, he certainly failed. If anything, he has strengthened it tenfold. He has awakened a storm within that child. That man has no idea what he has done."

Cailan nodded as he looked back at his map.

           "She will make a fine Warden indeed. The two battles have gone well so far. It appears that this may not be a true Blight after all." He stated.

Duncan drew his brows together.

           "You sound disappointed." He replied.

Cailan looked up at him and nodded.

           "In truth, I am. I wanted a large battle to take place, to ride into battle alongside the righteous Grey Wardens, to have bards and minstrels alike sing songs and recount stories of the mighty King who rid the world of the Darkspawn before they ever had any hope to take it from us! But I suppose this will have to do."

Duncan smiled sympathetically.

           "Not all great kings have to be a part of large battles to get bards to sing of them, Majesty. I must head back to my tent; I will speak with you later."

Cailan nodded, not really listening as he had turned his attention back towards his map. Duncan exited the tent and found Bridget waiting for him outside. She was staring in the direction of the Wilds. Duncan sighed as he approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

           "I know you want to search for Fergus, but he is beyond our reach by now, I am sure. I do, however, need to send you and the other two recruits into the Wilds but I need to know that you will do the task that I ask of you and not try to search for Fergus."

Bridget looked at him.

           "But he's out there, Duncan. He's still alive."

Duncan looked down and sighed.

           "Just because he was alive when he went into the Wilds does not mean that he is still. The Wilds are a dark and dangerous place, Bridget. But I must send you there to retrieve the items I need for the Joining. Can you do that for me?”

Bridget raised an eyebrow.

           "What's that?" she asked.

Before Duncan could answer, Alistair approached her with two other men.

            "Think of it this way, the Joining weeds out the worthy from the unworthy, if you want to be blunt about it." He replied.

He then smiled at Bridget and introduced her to the two men behind him. To his left was a tall man with ravenous black hair and a long nose. He wore simple leather armor and had a noticeably confident smirk on his face. His name was Ser Daveth and he hailed from Denerim, Ferelden's capital. Daveth was a cutpurse who had managed to snatch Duncan's coin pouch without Duncan being none the wiser. When he did notice and caught up with him, he invoked the Right of Conscription so that Daveth would avoid being thrown into Fort Drakon, as he was a known thief. To Alistair's right was a brutish looking man who had red hair, a kind smile, but large, brown eyes full of worry. Bridget learned that he was a knight from Redcliffe and that he went by the name of Jory. Bridget had expected that there were more recruits than just herself and the two men, but apparently, they were the only ones to catch Duncan's eye.

           "I'm tasking you three with obtaining two things that I need. Firstly, I need you to fill these phials with Darkspawn blood." He stated as he handed each recruit a small glass tube.

Daveth gaped at him.

           "You want us to fill this with Darkspawn blood? Isn't that poisonous?"

Bridget didn't say anything as she put her phial in her pack. She did not know what a Darkspawn looked like, but she did know enough that their Taint could corrupt anything. Were certain people immune to the Taint? Or were only those who were worthy of becoming Wardens immune? While she was being healed in the mage's tent earlier, Bridget had seen many men who had become sick with the corruption. They were either speaking gibberish or not at all. Some were pale and cold while others said their skin felt like it was boiling on their bones. She worried about facing these creatures. Bridget could by no means fall to them, she had to endure and survive if she had any hope of seeing Fergus again and delivering her revenge.

           "What else must we do?" she asked Duncan, settling her gaze back on him.

Duncan placed his hands behind his back.

           "I need you to find a cache full of particularly important documents. We hid it in a ruin some time ago, it should still be there. Within the cache are treaties. Treaties that we will need in the coming weeks to build alliances and armies. Once you have these documents and the phials, you may return to me, and we will begin the Joining Ritual. Do you have any questions?"

Bridget looked to her companions. The two men seemed worried and confused. Apparently, they believed they only had to be skilled with a blade and sharp in their minds to become a Warden. But that was not the case.

           "We will obtain these items, Duncan." She stated.

Duncan nodded.

           "Good. I give you leave to go into the Wilds. Your hound can stay with me while you go. And Bridget, do not try to seek him out. It will only prolong your stay in the Wilds and, as it is getting dark, you will want to complete these tasks quickly. You will see Fergus again, child. But right now, I need you to focus on the task at hand."

Bridget swallowed. She wanted to find Fergus with every fiber of her being. She wanted to hug him and to explain to him how sorry she was. She wanted to mourn with him. But, as Bridget led Daveth, Jory, and Alistair towards the gate to the Wilds, she had another thought. She was supposed to protect the castle in her father's absence and she had done the very opposite. Fergus's family was dead because of her. When he found out that she could do nothing to save Oriana…that she practically led little Oren to his death…could he even stand to look at her? Or would he consider her dead along with the others? Bridget pushed the thought out of her mind as she and her companions entered the Korcari Wilds.

Chapter Text

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

The Wilds

Being from the coast, Bridget had never really seen a dense forest such as this before. The trees were tall and ominous, the ground was wet from the drizzling rain, and if one listened close enough, you could hear the sounds of wolves in the distance. The thick bramble was hard to get through. It was as if the branches on the trees were trying to protect them, in a way. Almost as if they were holding them back and preventing them from progressing into the dangerous forest. Bridget could hear Daveth and Jory mumbling their worries to each other. Bridget stopped short as she heard something in the distance. She drew her brows together and listened carefully, remembering that Percival always told her she would usually hear her enemy before she ever saw him. Bridget drew her sword and shield quietly.

"Why are you doing that? Did you see a Darkspawn?" Daveth asked loudly.

Bridget cut her eyes at him over her shoulder.

"Shh!" she hissed.

Bridget turned her attention ahead of her once more and stepped forward carefully. Alistair raised his eyebrows in admiration as he watched her slowly but surely led them through the Wilds. She certainly had good leadership qualities. Bridget stopped again and tipped her head to the side slightly. She gripped the hilt of her sword.

"Wolves!"

The minute she said it, four aggressive wolves emerged from the dark shadows of the nearby bushes and trees and attacked them. Bridget blocked one with her shield and lowered her blade into it effectively. It whimpered in pain as the steel cut through its body. Daveth ran back a bit to get in range and managed to deliver a blow right between the eyes of one. Alistair and Jory dealt with the others. Once finished, Bridget stepped over their remains and continued pressing on. At the moment, things appeared calm.

"S-Someone, help me, please?"

Bridget furrowed her brow as she heard the faint voice. She led her companions a little ways ahead and when she noticed a man barely able to keep himself up, she ran towards him. He had two arrows protruding from his right leg and another from his left shoulder. Blood and dirt covered his face and there were traces of vomit left on the sides of his mouth and down his chin.

"Is that you…Grey Wardens?" he asked as he stared up at Bridget and Alistair.

Bridget knelt by him, as did Alistair.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

The man swallowed and shook his head.

"We were out on a scouting mission and were ambushed. I don't know if any of us survived. It…It was a massacre. You don't want to go back there…what lays beyond will make even the strongest warrior shake in their boots."

Bridget's eyes widened slightly.

"Was a Fergus Cousland with you?" she asked worriedly.

The man nodded.

"Yes, ack, I-I think so. But I do not know if he lived. Please, don't go back there, for your own sakes."

Alistair removed bandages from his pack and a health poultice and aided the man as best as he could. He then helped him stand.

"Do you need us to walk you back to the camp?" he asked.

The man shook his head.

"N-No, I think I can manage."

He then slowly limped away. Bridget stared ahead of her and withdrew her blade. Jory and Daveth looked at each other worriedly.

"How many do you think were there? How are we even supposed to know if they're near?"

Alistair shook his head.

"Don't worry. There's a reason why I'm here with you. Wardens can sense Darkspawn. We won't be taken by surprise; I can promise you that."

Neither Jory nor Daveth looked convinced. Their conversation was lost to Bridget as she pondered what the injured solider had said. She wasn't sure how many massacres she could handle, how many she would have to see before this war was over. As they continued on a foul, pungent smell filled the air. It was one Bridget was familiar with.

"It smells of death." She stated.

Alistair drew his blade.

"That's the thing about Darkspawn, you can always smell them before anything else."

As soon as he said it, an arrow whizzed past Bridget and nicked Daveth's arm. Thankfully, his armor took the blunt of the blow and he was still able to wield his bow effectively. As the Darkspawn came into view, Bridget felt a surge of fear shoot through her. These creatures were truly the monsters that children feared at night. Their skin was rotted and only seemed to hang from their faces. They were ugly and foul creatures, vile and evil. Bridget pushed her fear away and engaged a Hurlock, one of the taller Darkspawn, in battle. Its tactics were viscous and unmerciful. As he swung his axe down, Bridget nearly fell to her knees as she held up her shield and pushed back against his weapon. These creatures were much stronger than they looked. As the Hurlock pulled his axe back to come at her with another attack, Bridget saw an opening. She regained her balance and kicked it down. As it fell, Bridget relieved the creature of its head.

"Look out!"

Bridget turned quickly to see a Genlock charging at her, but Alistair rammed into him with his shield and thrust his blade into his throat. He looked at her and nodded and she acknowledged him with a small smile. Bridget then hurried to her left to aid Jory as Alistair went to rescue Daveth, who had been knocked down. Once the battle was won, the four companions caught their breath before they filled the three phials full of the black and tainted blood.

"Blimey that was a nightmare." Daveth sighed as he winced and looked at the cut on his arm.

Jory shook his head.

"This was only a small group, and it nearly did us in. What will we do against more than just a few?"

Alistair raised his eyebrows. It was true, the group nearly did do them in…but that was only true for Daveth and Jory. Alistair noted that Bridget held her own during the battle and that she didn't even seem to be fazed by how awful these creatures were.

"Now that we have the phials, let's search for those treaties. Do you have any idea where they may be, Alistair?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Should be in what remains of that tall building in the distance there."

Bridget followed his gaze and noted the tower in question. She continued to lead her group on and soon, they came across more Darkspawn…and what remained of the scouts. There were limbs and other carnage scattered everywhere. The ground was more red than brown.

"Bloody hell. They tore these men apart." Daveth said under his breath.

Jory looked like he would be sick, and Alistair shook his head. They continued forward. With each step, Bridget's worry grew. As she inspected the men, she noticed she had not seen Fergus, and began to get her hopes up. However, as she progressed further on, she noticed the corpses that remained were faceless. The Darkspawn had ripped them off. Some only had their eyes gauged out, while with others, only a few bits of muscles and tendon remained. As Bridget swallowed and stepped forward, she felt something underneath her boot. She stepped back and looked down at what she stepped on, only to have her heart sink and her stomach plummet. Bridget knelt to the ground and picked up the silver locket.

There was an ornate F carved into the silver. The chain had been broken, but the locket itself remained closed. Bridget found the clasp and opened it, already knowing what laid inside. She sucked in a breath and drew her brows together as she stared at a small portrait of Oriana and Oren. Bridget glanced up briefly to see a body laying close by. The corpse was completely faceless. All that remained was a glossy, bloody skull. Blood also covered the man's body. One arm had apparently been cut off, his left however, was outstretched and the hand looked as if it could have been holding this locket before it was tossed or torn away.

Alistair noticed Bridget kneeling in the distance and approached her. He wanted to ask her what her brother looked like, that way he could help her either identify his body or put her worries at ease. As he walked up next to her though, he realized something was wrong. He noticed the locket she held in her hand and noted the corpse nearby. Alistair looked down and sighed. He knelt next to her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I know you are probably tired of hearing this, and I know it can't bring him back, but I am sorry that that this happened to him. No one should have to die like this, not even the evilest criminal in Fort Drakon."

Bridget didn't say anything. She didn't feel anything. She knew she should not have gotten her hopes up. But some small part of her, the part of her that didn't want to believe so much bad could happen in the span of one day, truly believed that Fergus would be alright, that he would be safe. But apparently, the Maker deemed it necessary to take him, too. Bridget closed the locket and gripped it tightly in her hand.

"If we don't stop this…these men will only be the first of many to die like this. Let's move."

Bridget shrugged off Alistair's hand and stood. Alistair drew his brows together. He felt worried for her. As they continued through the forest, Alistair pondered everything that Bridget had been through so far. Losing her entire family in just the span of hours, then finding out that the only other person who could have survived was dead as well…how was she not inconsolable and wrought with grief? Was she holding it in so that she would not appear weak to those around her? Or was she suppressing it and keeping it locked away? As he followed her to the ruins, he hoped that she would be okay. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Alistair brightened slightly as he saw the old chest in the distance.

"This is the tower! The treaties should be here!” He exclaimed.

As Bridget approached the chest, however, the lid was broken and nothing remained inside. Alistair drew his brows together.

"I don't understand, they were supposed to be here!"

Bridget looked up at him.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

As Alistair explained his reasoning and pulled his map from his pack, Bridget felt eyes on her. She looked around and noticed no one apart from her small group, but still felt uneasy.

"Do you think it's possible someone took,"

"Well, well…what have we here?" a mysterious voice said.

Bridget and the others whipped around to see a figure emerging from the shadows. A woman appeared. She had hair as black as night and sharp eyes that looked like two shimmering gold coins. Her face was pointy, but she was beautiful, nonetheless. She wore tattered, low cut robes that were not very modest. She carried a tall, precariously bent staff with her and raised an eyebrow at them. The mysterious woman did not appear dangerous, but Bridget had her guard up.

"Are you a vulture, perhaps? Searching for something that is here no longer?" she asked as she walked around the group slowly, eyeing them each intently.

Alistair frowned and looked at Bridget.

"Don't answer her, she looks Chasined and there may be others nearby." He said softly.

The woman had climbed atop some rubble so that she could have a vantage point and stare down at the strangers that had invaded her home.

"Ooh you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. Swooping is bad." He replied suspiciously.

The woman rolled her eyes. Daveth nudged Bridget.

"I know her, she's a Witch of the Wilds she is!" he exclaimed.

The 'witch' cut her eyes at Daveth and frowned.

"You should not go around throwing accusations like that at others. It may cost you your tongue someday."

Daveth shrunk back and swallowed. The Chasined woman set her eyes on Bridget.

"You there, women do not scare as easily as weak-minded men. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Bridget thought over her options for a moment. She realized that they most likely would get nowhere unless she cooperated, so she bowed her head and answered the mysterious 'witch'.

"I am Bridget Cousland." She replied.

The dark-haired woman raised her eyebrows.

"Such manners! I would not have expected such. You may call me Morrigan. So, what brings you to these Darkspawn filled wilds of mine?"

Bridget looked around briefly to make sure there were no others nearby and said,

"We are recruits for the Grey Wardens and our Senior Warden has asked us to retrieve documents that were locked away in this chest. Do you know what may have happened to them?"

Morrigan crossed her arms.

"Obviously, they are here no longer. What makes you think I know what happened to these papers?"

Before Bridget could say anything, Alistair cut her off.

"’Here no longer’? You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of…sneaky, witch thief!"

Morrigan cut her eyes at him.

"Did you not just hear me tell your friend what may happen to those who spew false accusations? You are on my territory right now. I suggest you remember that."

Bridget looked at Alistair.

"Let me handle this." She stated.

She turned her attention back to Morrigan.

"Please excuse my friend. He did not mean what he said, I promise."

The enigmatic Morrigan set her gaze back to Bridget.

"Do not make promises on behalf of that dimwitted fool or else you are no smarter than him. If you must know, I did not take these documents of yours. My mother did."

Alistair's eyes widened.

"Your mother? Oh…I see. No hard feelings, right?"

Morrigan paid him no mind. Instead, she walked down from her vantage point and approached Bridget.

"I can take you to her if you like. The Darkspawn have not yet touched the part of the Wilds in which she resides. If these documents are as important as you say they are, you will follow without question. Or can you not bring yourself to trust a 'witch' as both of your friends have branded me?"

Bridget could hear the worried whispers of her companions behind her but had no choice in the matter. They would not be able to retrieve the documents without Morrigan's help. Percival once mentioned that in times of great need, one would sometimes have to trust those that they normally would not. Bridget wasn't sure if she could trust Morrigan fully, but for now, she would have to. She nodded her head in agreement. Without further comment, Morrigan turned away and the others followed her. The route to her mother's hut was difficult to navigate.

The path was twisty and the further they went into the Wilds, the darker it became. With each step, the trees grew taller and taller. They towered over them ominously and swayed slightly with the wind. They took many turns, and, after a while, Bridget thought they were going in circles until they finally saw a small, dilapidated hut in the distance. An old woman who appeared very feeble, though Bridget guessed was quite powerful, sat outside on a rotting chair. She stood slowly as they approached her.

"Hello, mother. I have with me Grey Warden recruits."

The woman nodded her head. She had grey, matted hair and wore tattered rags for clothes. Her eyes were a shimmering gold, just as Morrigan's. Dark circles lined her heavy-lidded eyes. The elder studied Bridget and her friends intently before she replied.

"I see them, girl. I am Flemeth, and you are?"

Before Bridget could answer her, Daveth cut her off.

"Flemeth? You're Flemeth? You really are a Witch of the Wilds!"

Jory punched Daveth in the arm.

"Silence, fool! If she's a witch, do you really want to go and make her angry?"

Bridget felt her patience wearing extremely thin regarding her two companions. She looked over her shoulder at them and shot them both a look that silenced them on the spot. Once they settled, Bridget returned her attention to Flemeth and Morrigan.

"I am sorry for the outburst." She stated.

Flemeth raised an eyebrow at her.

"The lad is wise to issue caution. There are many tales that surround my name, after all. Do not apologize on the behalf of others though, young girl. It may cause you more trouble as opposed to sparing it. My guess is you came for the documents that were once housed in the ruins, yes? I will fetch them for you."

Flemeth turned and entered her hut. Not a moment later, she returned carrying a thick stack of paper.

"Here are your documents. I hope you do not believe I stole these papers. I was merely keeping them safe from the animals and barbarians that call these Wilds home. There are flowers that grow amongst the weeds here if you know where to find them." She stated as she handed the papers to Alistair.

Alistair took them from her and carefully placed them in his pack.

"I…I guess we should thank you for keeping these safe." He stated.

Flemeth raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose you should. You have your treaties now; you are free to go. Morrigan will show you the way out, so you do not become lost. Go on, girl."

Morrigan frowned and stepped forward.

"Very well, follow me." She said dully.

Surprisingly, it did not take the group long to reach the entrance to the Wilds. Before Bridget could thank Morrigan for all her help, she had once more disappeared into the shadows. Bridget reentered the camp and found Duncan speaking with a mage outside of his tent. He nodded his head towards her as she approached him.

"I see you've returned. Were you successful?"

Bridget nodded and handed him the phials. Alistair mentioned that he had the treaties in his pack and Duncan advised he leave them there for now.

"Good. It is now time for you to partake in the Joining Ritual."

Bridget took a deep breath. She felt her stomach knot slightly with nerves.

"Before we go, will you tell us what the Joining is now?"

Duncan looked at her and placed his hands behind his back.

"We Wardens pay a heavy price for what we become. Your fate and destiny may deem that you pay that price now rather than later. It is not for me to say."

Bridget drew her brows together as she tried to decipher the meaning behind Duncan's words. The conclusion she came to was not a good one.

"I am ready." She stated, her voice shaking ever so slightly in fear.

Duncan nodded.

"Good. Alistair, take them to the old temple while I finish talking with the mages."

Alistair stepped forward.

"Right. This way, you three." He stated.

Bridget, Daveth, and Jory followed Alistair to the west side of camp and climbed a ramp leading to an old, small tower. Outside rested a table with a silver chalice sitting atop it. As they waited for Duncan, Jory crossed his arms and frowned.

"More damned tests. When will they ever end? Have I not proven my worth to join this order?"

Daveth rolled his eyes.

"What are you blubberin' about now? Of course, there's going to be trials and tests, they don't let just anyone be a Warden, you great oaf!"

Jory narrowed his eyes at Daveth.

"What did you call me? I'll have you know that I could break a little toothpick like you into pieces with no second thought!"

"And I'll have you know that I can easily dodge you before you attack me and stab you from behind!"

Jory flared his nostrils.

"Oh yes, because that's what you rogues love to do, isn't it? Stab people in the back and then be on your bloody way?"

"Enough!"

Daveth and Jory both turned to look at Bridget. If looks could kill, both would have dropped dead at her feet.

"I am so sick of hearing you two do nothing but complain and argue! For the record, I don't believe either of you are good enough to join the Wardens. You are both rude, you speak out of tern, Alistair and I had to save both of your asses in the Wilds, and you have done nothing but complain! You two need to either straighten yourselves and act like you want to be here, that being a Warden will actually mean something to you, or go back to the lives you had before Duncan found you."

Daveth frowned.

"Some of us were not as privileged as you were, princess! We have no castle to return to." He spat.

Before Alistair could intervene, as he clearly knew that was the worst possible thing Daveth could say to Bridget, she balled her hand into a fist and punched him in his jaw so hard, he stumbled backwards.

"I don't have a castle to return to either, you asshole." She grumbled as she shook her hand slightly.

Alistair smirked, feeling a surge of respect for her and found himself hoping that she would make it through the Joining. The same could not be said for Daveth or Jory. Daveth rubbed his jaw and wiped the blood away from his busted lip. Duncan appeared at the top of the ramp then, carrying with him a large phial. The liquid in it was a mix between black and red.

"At last we come to the Joining," he stated as he walked towards the table nearby. He uncorked the phial and poured it into the silver chalice.

"As you should know, the Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight. When humanity laid on the verge of annihilation, it was the first Grey Wardens who drank of Darkspawn blood to become what they were. They mastered the Taint within them and saved all of humanity from falling into darkness."

Bridget looked from the chalice to Duncan and raised her eyebrows slightly. As a child, she always hated taking liquid medicine from the apothecaries that provided it to her whenever she became ill because of the way it tasted. She had a feeling that this would not go well.

"You mean we're going to drink the blood of those…creatures?"

Duncan looked at Jory and nodded.

"This is the source of our power. As the Grey Wardens did before us, as Alistair and I did before you, you too must master the Taint in order to become a true Warden."

Alistair moved to stand next to him.

"Once you master the Taint, you will become immune to it. Darkspawn blood will no longer be poisonous to you. You will also be able to sense them, as well as the Arch Demon that guides them."

Bridget swallowed.

"Are we ready then?" she asked.

Duncan shook his head.

"A word of caution, first. Not all who drink this blood will survive it. Only the truly worthy can become Wardens, and those that do are forever changed. This is the price that we pay."

Daveth and Jory looked at each other uneasily as they remembered Bridget's words.

"We speak but a few words before the Joining, but these words have been repeated since the first. Alistair, would you?"

Alistair nodded and cleared his throat.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you."

Duncan carefully picked up the chalice and held it in his hands.

"Step forward, Daveth."

The rogue swallowed uneasily and moved forward. He took the chalice from Duncan with shaky hands and drank from it. Duncan quickly snatched the chalice back from him as Daveth gripped at his throat. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell to his knees. Bridget's eyes widened as she watched his body convulse and foam escape from his mouth. He then stilled suddenly, fell over, and ceased to move.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan said softly.

Duncan then set his gaze on Jory, who took a step back.

"Step forward, Jory."

The knight shook his head and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"N-No, you ask too much! There is no glory in this! Only death! I have a wife with a child on the way, I cannot do this!"

Duncan set the chalice down on the table and drew his own sword.

"There is no going back, Jory. You know too much."

Jory swung his blade, but as he was a two handed warrior, he had left a large opening. Duncan ran him through with his blade and sighed.

"I am sorry, Jory." He said regrettably.

Bridget watched in horror as Jory slid to the ground and coated the ancient stone in his deep red blood. Duncan then turned to her and handed her the chalice.

"It is not over yet. Drink from the cup and see if you are indeed worthy of the Wardens."

Bridget took cup from Duncan and stared into the dark liquid. It was a mix of red, purple, and black. It looked extremely thick and extremely unpleasant. She raised it to her lips, closed her eyes, and downed what remained of the blood. Bridget dropped the chalice and doubled over, nearly vomiting the liquid. It burned like hellfire scorching through her throat and made her feel as if her skin would boil and bubble right off of her bones. Bridget threw her head back and looked up into the sky. Flashes of dark creatures played before her eyes. She saw the Darkspawn in the Deep Roads of Orzammar, lining up their forces and heading out to desecrate the land. She saw the battles that they were already winning across Ferelden, saw the lush green grasses that covered the land turn to ash, the trees become barren, the flowers wilt and rot away with their Taint. Bridget felt her eyes roll into the back of her head and felt herself slipping. For a long moment, she saw nothing but darkness. When she came too, she realized that she had fallen backwards. Alistair had caught her before she had a chance to hit the stone floor and Duncan was leaning over her, smiling proudly.

"Congratulations. You have mastered the Taint. You are a Warden now."

Alistair helped Bridget slowly stand up. She felt a little woozy but held her ground.

"How do you feel?" Alistair asked her softly.

Bridget drew her brows together.

"I'm not quite sure…a little dizzy, I suppose."

Duncan rested his hand on her shoulder.

"I am immensely proud of you. I had faith that you would pull through."

Alistair nodded.

"Yes. There was a death during my Joining as well. I am glad that you made it through, though. Here, take this pendant. It has a bit of the blood you drank in it, to remember those that did not make it this far."

Bridget took the pendant from Alistair and thanked him. Duncan motioned for her to follow him down the ramp.

"Come, we must speak with the king and find out what our place will be in the battle. Then I suggest trying to get some sleep before it will take place."

Alistair looked back at Daveth and Jory's bodies.

"I will remain here to…clean up." He stated.

Bridget nodded and accompanied Duncan down the ramp. Zeus was waiting patiently for her at the bottom and, the minute he laid his eyes on his mistress, he dashed forward and nearly threw her down with the force of his joy from seeing her.

"I missed you too, boy." She said as she scratched his ears.

After their brief reunion, Bridget continued to follow Duncan back to the King's tent. Before they even reached it, she could hear men shouting from inside it, obviously disagreeing with each other. Upon entering, Bridget saw King Cailan pacing back and forth and looking rather frustrated with an older, dark haired man wearing very ornate armor. A mage stood in their presence as well as a Revered Mother.

"This is not the way to go about this, Cailan, you must listen to me! You cannot obtain glory in every battle that you wish to fight. It will end up costing you your life some day!" the dark-haired man yelled.

Cailan shook his head.

"Loghain, you have said your piece and I have heeded your words, but I am king here, not you. I believe my path is the best way to go. We will face them head on; I will have the Wardens light a beacon which will signal your garrison to move forward. Am I clear?"

Bridget cast her eyes on the man that Cailan was speaking to. She had heard many tales of the Teryn of Gwaren, how he helped King Maric, Cailan's father, drive back the Orlesian force during the war, how he became the Hero of Riverdane. Bridget had always pictured him carrying an air of power, but not in an arrogant way. She imagined that he had a remarkably high sense of duty and honor and was a proud man. Yet right now, he looked extremely frustrated and angry. His eyes were dark, and his frown was set very deep in his face. Bridget glanced at the map on the table. She did not know what Loghain had suggested, but she did not think it was wise to face the Darkspawn head on as King Cailan had recommended. The bald mage stepped forward.

"Your grace, allow the mages to help you in this battle. Our magic is immensely powerful and will be very useful. We can easily heal your wounded before they have a chance to fall, we can create walls of ice and rain fire from the skies,"

The Revered Mother narrowed her eyes at him.

"Absolutely not! You forget that you are not of your own will, Uldred. You must answer to the Templars and the Chantry, and I forbid you or any other mages from being involved in this battle. Your magic will be far more detrimental to us then helpful."

Uldred was taken aback by her outburst and opened his mouth to respond, but Duncan cleared his throat, gaining Cailan's attention.

"Ah Duncan, I see you have returned. Have you completed the Joining?"

Duncan nodded.

"Yes. One recruit made it through."

Cailan smiled as he noticed Bridget.

"I had a feeling she would. I am glad you are here. I am tasking you and your fellow Warden with a particularly important task. You are to climb the Tower of Ishal and light a beacon during the onslaught. The beacon will thus inform Teyrn Loghain's men to march forward. Duncan, I would like for you to join me in battle. King and Warden will fight side by side and drive out these accursed creatures before they ever hope to take us!"

Duncan and Bridget bowed.

"It will be an honor to be by your side, Majesty."

Cailan nodded.

"Yes, it will be glorious. We should all prepare ourselves and get some rest before we march out. You are dismissed."

Bridget noted the look of outrage on Loghain's face as he stormed out of the tent. She followed Duncan back to the Warden's tent and together, they informed Alistair of what the king had said.

"Wait…so you mean I won't be in the battle?" he asked.

Duncan sat down by the fire and looked at him.

"Consider yourself lucky, Alistair. This is a great task that the king has entrusted to both of you. You are to light the beacon and nothing more, is that clear?"

Bridget nodded.

"Yes. May we join the battle after we light the beacon?"

Duncan shook his head.

"Just remain there. I want no heroics from either of you. If the Arch Demon is to appear, let me handle it, am I understood?"

Bridget and Alistair both nodded their heads.

"Aye." They said together.

Duncan looked at them.

"Good. Now, both of you, please try to get some sleep. You will need to be fully alert for the battle. I wish you both well."

"May the Maker watch over you, Duncan." Alistair stated quietly.

Duncan looked over his shoulder at him.

"May he watch over us all."

Bridget bowed her head as Duncan entered his tent. She turned to her own small one that was off to the side. Zeus had already made his way towards it and was laying down in the dirt.

"I guess I will see you in a few hours. Try to get some sleep, Bridget."

Bridget nodded at Alistair.

"I will. You try to get some sleep too. Goodnight, Alistair. And thank you for not intervening earlier. I feel guilty for what I did now, considering, but what Daveth said,"

Alistair shook his head.

"No, you don't need to apologize. He was extremely out of tern."

Bridget gave him a small smile. Alistair noted it. He smiled after her as she walked towards her tent and, once she was safely inside it, he turned and left for his own. As Bridget made herself as comfortable as she could get on the cold, wet ground, she prayed to the Maker, asking him to watch over the soldiers and everyone else during the battle. She certainly hoped he would hear her prayer and would listen instead of taking more people away from her. Bridget had no idea what would happen within the next few hours. She had no idea that she would once again face a devastating blow and have yet an even larger task placed in front of her. Her will and patience had not broken yet, however, even the bravest warrior would fear what was to come.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

The Tower of Ishal

Kingsway 9:30 Dragon.

Ostagar

The ground was cold and wet and did not make for a comfortable bed. Bridget fought with herself to try and sleep, but she did not find it. She was in more of a twilight phase, not fully awake, with just her toe in the Fade. Her dreams were muddled images of dark figures and burning castles. More often than naught, Howe's face appeared before her closed eyelids and would jolt her awake, his stark pale skin blazing white against the darkness of her eyelids. Howe was not yet a ghost and yet she was haunted by him. He could be in the farthest reaches of Thedas and yet he would always find her in her dreams.

As Bridget stared up into the cloth of her tent, she made peace with the fact that she would no longer experience happy dreams anymore. She would never see her father's smile or hear his laughter in her dreams and would only remember him as she last saw him; beaten, bruised, and on the very brink of death. Bridget sighed and closed her eyes once more. She tried her best to just erase everything from her mind, if only for an hour to try and sleep. This time as she was just on the brink of her nightmares again, she heard a distant shout. She kept her eyes closed and willed herself to ignore it, but then she heard another, and then another. Bridget opened her eyes and sat up as the smell of smoke replaced that of the smell of the soldiers and the pine from the Wilds. She grabbed her swords and shield and strapped them to herself as she emerged from her tent. Bridget's eyes widened as she looked around. At some point in the night, the Darkspawn had ambushed the camp. Bodies sprinkled the ruins and Bridget could hear more cries coming from the distant battlefield.

"Bridget!"

She turned at Alistair's shout and ran to him. He sighed happily once she got close enough to hear him.

"Thank the Maker you're alright. We've been ambushed, though I guess you probably figured that out already. Duncan, the King, and his garrison are already on the battlefield, but Loghain's men still do not know what's going on. We have to get to the tower and light the beacon to inform them to march forward." He explained.

Bridget nodded and withdrew her father's sword and shield. Together with Alistair and Zeus, they began making their way to the Tower of Ishal. Bridget ran past many men, some running towards the battlefield below them, others injured and lying in the grass that was more red than green. Some lacked limbs, others were missing heads. The Darkspawn were a brutal and unrelenting enemy and knew nothing of mercy. As they made it towards the bridge that connected the camp to the tower, Bridget looked down below to catch a glimpse of the battle. She could easily spot Cailan wearing his armor of gold as he slashed away at Hurlocks and Genlocks and wolves that the Darkspawn had infected, which made them even fiercer than before. The wind carried the shouts of battle cries, cries of victory and defeat as some men prevailed against their enemies while others fell. Bridget distinctively heard someone shout "Protect the King" and as she saw a handful of men run to Cailan's aid, she turned to Alistair and drew her brows together.

"We must hurry." She stated.

Bridget continued to lead them across the bridge where Cailan's archers were perched, raining arrows lit with fire down upon the Darkspawn. The fierce creatures soon retaliated though, and Bridget's eyes widened as a large, monstrous, horned beast emerged from the shadows below them and picked up a large boulder. The creature hurled it towards the bridge. Bridget, Alistair and Zeus ran across what remained of the bridge as quickly as they could before the boulder met the ancient stone, crumbling against the aged rock and taking out four archers in its path. Once across to the other side, there was no time for Bridget to catch her breath as the entire tower appeared to be overrun by Darkspawn. A straggling soldier and mage stood by the entrance to the tower, fighting off other Darkspawn who were trying to push their way in. Bridget and Alistair rushed to their aid and managed to help them with only the solider receiving minor injuries. The mage began to heal his wounds.

"Does anyone know how they managed to sneak into camp?" Bridget asked as they regrouped.

The soldier shook his head.

"No, unless they used archers to take out all of our lookouts I'm not really sure, bloody hell that hurts!" he snapped at the mage.

Bridget watched as the greenish blue hue from the mages' hands wrapped and twirled itself around the man's injuries.

"Forgive me, sir. Your wound was deep." he replied softly.

They introduced themselves as Gregory and Lewis. They both appeared to be the same age, mid-twenties Bridget guessed, but Lewis was much scrawnier than Gregory was.

"Did any manage to break through to the tower?" Alistair asked.

Gregory nodded.

"Aye. We were a bit preoccupied with a whole shit load of them coming out of the woods in case you hadn't noticed."

Bridget shook her head.

"We can't keep standing around idly. Will you two help us take this tower back?" she asked.

Gregory and Lewis looked at each other uneasily before sighing and nodding.

"I'd rather die in battle than waste away back at the Circle." Lewis mumbled.

Without further comment, Bridget led the others into the tower. It was dank and dark, only a few torches were lit along the wall. Bridget could not only sense a large mass of Darkspawn evenly spread throughout the tower, but she could also smell them. Their stench was difficult to describe. It smelled like flesh that had rotted and then burned. It was nauseating. So much so that she could hear Lewis gagging behind her. Bridget grimaced as they progressed further into the tower. It was difficult to see with such little light source, but for a good while, things appeared to be calm. That was until Alistair triggered a trap, of course. A mass of arrows shot forward, and Bridget almost took one in her shoulder had she not lifted her shield fast enough.

"Are you trying to kill us before the Darkspawn do? Pay attention, you fool!" Lewis hissed as he evaporated his protective barrier from around himself.

Alistair winced.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see it there, I can't see anything in this place!"

Bridget ignored them and pressed forward, taking the role of the group's leader. Sweat dripped down the side of her face as she slowly progressed on, keeping her eyes and ears keen as she listened for any sudden movements. The halls were quiet, so quiet that she could hear her footsteps echoing off the old, beaten stone. Eventually, they made it to a stone staircase. Weapons lay scattered at the bottom of it, glimmering slightly in the torchlight. Bridget could hear the vile creatures beyond the door up the stairs and took a deep breath to prepare to face them. She slowly walked up the steps and placed her hand on the door.

"On my count, we storm them." Bridget stated as she looked over her shoulder at her companions.

The three men nodded. Bridget turned her attention back to the door.

"One. Two. Three!"

Bridget threw open the large door and was met with a swarm of Hurlocks and Genlocks alike. They hurled themselves at her, snarling and gurgling, laughing their menacing, deep laughter. Apparently, they took great joy out of destroying everything around them. Bridget wasted no time engaging her enemy. She brought her sword down hard on a nearby Genlock and managed to block a Hurlock running towards her. However, she was so preoccupied with her two attackers, that she did not see the arrow headed for her shoulder. Bridget winced as she felt the sharp, steel tip of the arrow grind into her armor and delve into her skin.

"Son of a bitch!" she shouted as she finished off the other Hurlock.

Bridget dropped her shield and grabbed her shoulder as Alistair and the others took care of the other Darkspawn. Alistair rushed to her side after he slayed another Genlock and knelt by her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Bridget winced and nodded.

"Yes, I'll be fine, it just hurt. Lewis, can you heal me?"

The mage hurried over to her and placed his hand over her shoulder. He whispered another incantation and the same blue green hue from earlier erupted around his hands. Almost instantly, the pain in Bridget's arm was gone, but she knew the scar from the arrow would be left behind forever. The first of many she would acquire on this journey. After Lewis finished healing her, Bridget thanked him and continued to lead the group up through the tower.

They faced several Darkspawn along the way, each of them seeming to become fiercer than the last until they finally made it to the top of the tower. The door leading to the room was shut tight and covered with blood. On the other side, Bridget could hear deep growling and gurgling. It did not sound like any of the Darkspawn they had encountered so far. Bridget looked at the others uneasily before she stepped closer to the door. Alistair stood next to her.

"On three?" he asked.

Bridget nodded. They both placed their hands on the door and closed their eyes, counting silently. They pushed the great doors open with all their strength and nearly stumbled backwards from the roar of the beast that was waiting for them inside. Bridget swallowed as she was left utterly speechless. She had never seen a creature of this size before, nor had she believed they even existed. Standing before them was a large, horned beast, an ogre. The monstrous creature looked to be about fourteen feet tall, and it sneered at them as it's mouth began to water. It was like the beast that threw the boulder at the bridge earlier, only this one appeared to be twice as big! The ogre wore a belt made out of bodies and wore human skulls around it's neck. It roared again in anger and dropped the body it had been eating to engage in combat. Bridget and Alistair ran forward, coming up with a plan as they went. Gregory and Lewis ran in after them, ready to help take down this beast and drive these things back to the Deep Roads.

"Lewis, try to distract it with some spells, Alistair, Gregory, and I will slash at it's legs to throw it off balance!" Bridget shouted.

Lewis conjured a fire spell and cast it toward the ogre. The beast did not take kindly to trying to be set aflame. He was faster than he appeared and grabbed Lewis in his giant hand. Lewis screamed in terror as the ogre brought him close to his face. He cowered in fear as he stared into the beast's cold, black eyes. Bridget, Alistair, and Gregory were doing all they could, but it appeared that the beast had no weakness. Bridget managed to cut him deeply in his calf and black blood spilled forward. The ogre roared in pain and threw Lewis against the far wall. The mage hit the stone hard, his spine crushed upon impact. He slid down slowly, staff rolling away from him and was dead instantly. Bridget tried to remain focused on her task and slashed at the beast again. It fell forward on it's knees, landed on Gregory and crushed him beneath the weight of it's leg. Gregory screamed and coughed up nearly a pint of blood before succumbing to his wounds.

Alistair managed to dodge out of the way, and just as he had, another handful of Darkspawn swarmed the area. Bridget jumped on the back of the ogre and drove her sword into the back of his head. The beast howled in pain as she jumped down to help Alistair. They were able to eradicate the other Darkspawn in no time. Bridget looked at Lewis's limp body and what was left of Gregory's. She shook her head, feeling guilt seep in once again. If she had thought of another plan, would they have both survived?

"Bridget, the beacon!" Alistair shouted.

Bridget snapped out of her thoughts and ran to the nearby torch on the wall. She grabbed it and threw it into the large fire pit in the far corner. The leaves and branches within it immediately went up in smoke as a great fire broke out. As Bridget turned, nearly twenty Darkspawn had fled into the top of the tower. She rushed to Alistair's aid, but there were too many! They stood, back-to-back slashing and slicing through the air, but eventually, the Darkspawn overpowered them. Bridget was knocked down and stabbed in the side. She hit her head, hard on the rubble and debris as she fell. As Bridget's blood seeped out of her body and as her vision began to fade, she heard the roar of yet another great beast. She closed her eyes, accepting defeat and embraced the thought of seeing her father and the rest of her family again.

xXx

The smell of various herbs and burning wood was the first thing Bridget remembered smelling. Her sense of hearing came back next as she heard someone or something rummaging around the area. She finally opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a mud ceiling. Her vision was blurry at first, but slowly began to come back to her. Bridget noticed a woman standing nearby, and realized she was the one making the noise. She placed several roots into the cauldron above the fire and stirred them together. Bridget tried to sit up but grunted and fell back to the bed. The woman at the cauldron turned around. It took a moment for Bridget to recognize her, but she remembered her as the witch that had helped her find the Grey Warden treaties earlier; Morrigan.

"Ah, I see you've finally decided to join us, you were out for quite some time." She stated as she poured the soup from the cauldron into a small wooden bowl and carried it to Bridget.

"How long have I been out?" Bridget asked her voice low from not having used it for some time.

"Nearly three days. Your wounds were a bit beyond our magic to heal, but my mother and I did what we could. Eat this, it will help though I will warn you, it will taste like dirt."

Bridget, thankful for anything to eat now, graciously took the hot bowl from Morrigan and slowly sat up. She blew on the liquid lightly before taking a spoonful of it in her mouth. Bridget was always taught to never show distaste for something that she was eating, but she couldn't help but grimace as she swallowed the hot, thick liquid.

"I told you. How are you feeling, otherwise? I changed your bandages earlier this morning and you appear to be recovering very quickly."

Bridget shook her head.

"I don't care about myself; do you know what happened? Where are the troops? Did Loghain's men make it to Cailan's aid in time?"

Morrigan raised a dark eyebrow and stood. She shook her head and sighed.

"The battlefield is not a place of merriment right now. There is nothing there but bodies, bones, and blood. Your king is dead, as is over half of his regiment. This 'Loghain' fellow that you mentioned was nowhere to be found, nor were his troops. It appears that he quit the field."

Bridget's eyes widened in horror.

"No…we lit the beacon; he knew that was his signal!" she shouted.

Morrigan shrugged.

"Twas a signal he ignored completely! I witnessed firsthand what was left behind, what the Darkspawn did not drag back to the Deep Roads remains skewered on that field. Your friend, he is not taking it well."

Bridget lifted her head.

"My friend? You mean Alistair?" she asked.

Morrigan nodded.

"Yes, the suspicious dimwitted one from before? How he of all people managed to survive, I do not know. He is waiting for you outside. If you feel ready, I believe you are recovered enough to leave. I have your things in that trunk at the end of the bed."

Bridget gave her a small smile.

"Thank you, Morrigan, for all of your help. Alistair and I probably would have been with the others if not for you."

Morrigan shook her head.

"My mother took care of you more so than I did, but…you are welcome, nonetheless."

Morrigan made her way back to the small kitchen area to give Bridget some privacy as she dressed. Bridget was still quite sore and a little slow moving, but she was glad to be back on her feet again.

"I'm going to go talk to Alistair." She stated as she strapped her shield to her back and her swords at her sides.

"Very well, I will remain here to try and get this soup to taste like something other than dirt."

Bridget smiled as she stepped outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air and sighed. She saw Alistair pacing a few feet ahead, as Flemeth was trying to calm him down. Zeus perked up as soon as he caught a whiff of Bridget's scent. He barked happily and bounded towards her. Alistair and Flemeth turned as Bridget approached them.

"There, see? I told you she would be fine." Flemeth stated.

Alistair looked at Bridget and sighed with relief. Her hair shimmered like gold in the early morning sunlight, and, though her eyes looked tired, they were sparkling and shimmering with life. Without realizing it, Alistair put his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. Bridget didn't know what to say, and tried to ignore the pain that rushed to her side as she hugged him back briefly. Alistair took a moment to thank the Maker for sparing Bridget before he realized he had held her in his embrace for longer than what was appropriate and pulled away quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed furiously, then cleared his throat.

"I…I'm glad you're alright." He stated, trying his best not to become embarrassed.

Bridget gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I'm glad that you are safe as well, Alistair."

Alistair looked at his feet.

"I suppose she told you about…what happened?" he asked.

Bridget glanced towards Flemeth.

"I am no stranger to the lengths of what men will go to for greed, but I just can't fathom it, why would Loghain do this?" she asked.

The elderly mage raised her eyebrows.

"Greed is such a powerful force; it could turn even the most generous of people into mere shadows of what they used to be. He vied for the throne, obviously. And now that this Cailan is gone, he can have it."

Alistair shook his head.

"He has no right to the throne; he isn't even part of the bloodline and Cailan and Anora had no children! The Landsmeet will not stand for this, I guarantee it." He stated.

Bridget drew her brows together.

"He is trying to start a civil war, is he just ignoring the fact that there is another Blight upon us?"

Alistair looked at her.

"We have to go back to the battlefield, Bridget. Duncan may still be alive; we may be able to save him! I don't think we can do this without him." He stated.

Flemeth shook her head.

"Young man, you do not need to see the carnage that remains on that field. Your Duncan is gone, child. You must accept that." She warned.

"I don't want to accept it!" Alistair shouted.

Bridget looked at him and noticed the tears in his eyes. She remembered the feeling of not wanting to accept the fate that the Maker had dealt her family, hell, she still did not want to accept it or believe it. But she knew that nothing would bring them back, just as nothing would bring Duncan back.

"Alistair, I really don't think that's a good,"

Alistair turned and headed in the direction of the battlefield anyway, despite Flemeth and Bridget's wishes. Flemeth sighed tiredly and sat in her chair outside her hut.

"Go after him, he does not need to be alone when he sees what remains. I will send Morrigan after you to bring you back here. Stubborn child." She grumbled under her breath.

Bridget hurried after Alistair as fast as she could without trying to push herself. She caught up with him eventually, just as he had entered the field. The Witch of the Wilds was right; there was absolutely nothing of the soldiers left. Blood had seeped into the ground, almost permanently staining it crimson. Bridget gagged the further she stepped in. The bodies were rotting and decaying already, filling the air with nothing but the stench of death. Bridget finally reached Alistair and took his hand when she stood next to him. He looked at her, tears running down his face.

"I can't find him anywhere…do you think…do you think he escaped?"

Before Bridget answered Alistair, she glanced behind him, and her eyes widened. Alistair could tell something was wrong. When he tried to turn his head to look behind him, Bridget pressed her hand to his face and shook her head, preventing him from turning around. Tears filled her eyes as her lip quivered.

"I saw my family die before my very eyes, and I could do nothing to stop it. Please, Alistair, let me spare you from sharing that pain. I beg of you, let us leave now; you don't need to look behind you. Let's just return to Flemeth and go from there, yes?"

Alistair tore away from Bridget and spun around. He gasped in shock and horror at the image he saw before him. Duncan's body sat on it's knees, relieved of it's head. His arms were tied to a pole behind his back and his head decorated the top of the spike above it. Cailan's body was in the same position next to Duncan's, although the Darkspawn had drawn crude images in blood across his body. Alistair shook his head in disbelief. He felt his lip quiver as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. No one deserved this. He bent over and threw up what little contents he had in his stomach, though he wasn't sure if it was the smell of the bodies that had finally gotten to him or if it was the grotesqueness of the image before him that caused it. Alistair wiped his mouth and turned to Bridget who had stood behind. He slowly walked towards her and closed his eyes.

"Let's go." He whispered sadly.

Bridget walked in step beside Alistair, wanting to get as far away from this place as she could. Morrigan stood waiting for them at the entrance of the Wilds.

"Find what you were looking for?" she asked flatly as Alistair walked past her.

Alistair shot her a dirty look but remained silent as they trudged through the thick bramble and back to Flemeth's hut. She stood from her chair upon their arrival and greeted them solemnly.

"Are you satisfied now, young man?" she asked as they approached her.

Alistair remained silent. Bridget looked at Flemeth.

"We have to settle this. Loghain cannot just take the throne and try to start a war when we should be going to war with the Darkspawn!"

Flemeth nodded.

"I agree. But you cannot do it alone. You will need support. Allies. People who trust you to lead, and, if necessary, conquer."

"The treaties, we can use the treaties!" Alistair exclaimed.

Bridget turned to him.

"The elves, mages, and dwarves of old signed these treaties promising their help in the future Blights. We can contact them, seek them out, and see if they'll help us!" he stated.

Bridget looked back to Flemeth who nodded in agreement.

"This sounds like the best course of action. You are the only two Grey Wardens remaining, it is your duty to unite the land and save us from those that wish to take it."

Alistair stepped forward.

"Arl Eamon can help us as well; he can gather the Landsmeet so that we may overthrow Loghain. Eamon has a direct claim to the throne through blood; there is no one else whom we could trust."

Flemeth crossed her arms and smiled.

"Elves, dwarves, mages, this Arl Eamon fellow…it sounds like you have quite the army to me."

Alistair looked at her.

"Do…do you really think we can do it? Unite all of Ferelden? Take on the Arch Demon and restore peace?"

Bridget looked up at him and shrugged.

"We haven't got any choice." She stated.

Flemeth nodded.

"No, you don't. I cannot help you any more beyond this point, but I can give you one thing; the most prized of all my possessions."

Morrigan exited the hut and stepped forward.

"Since I was interrupted earlier for having to chase down these two, the soup overcooked and now it tastes like burnt dirt. So, will you be staying for this delicious delicacy, or will you finally be on your way?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving, child. And you are going with them."

Morrigan grinned.

"Oh at long last I, wait, what?"

Flemeth approached her daughter and took her hands in hers.

"They are so young in this world and need someone to guide them. That person is you, my dear. Go with them and show them the way to victory."

Morrigan looked at her mother as if she had a toad growing out of her head.

"Have you lost what little sense you had left? How wonderful of you to cast me out like this, I will have nowhere to go, to be with complete strangers,"

"Well, I certainly won't mind if you don't come along." Alistair mumbled.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him. Flemeth shook her head.

"You have always said I have sheltered you, now is your chance to go. They need you."

Alistair rolled his eyes.

"Pretty sure we could manage on our own." He mumbled again.

Bridget gave him an indignant look that silenced him on the spot. At hearing his objections, Morrigan made up her mind and decided to journey with them. She packed a few things to carry and returned from the hut once again.

"There is a small village not far from here in which we can obtain some supplies. If you like, I can tell you a little about it on our way, or if you would prefer, I will be your silent guide." She said angrily.

"I'd prefer you to speak your mind." Bridget stated.

Flemeth chuckled.

"You'll regret saying that."

Morrigan frowned.

"If you will follow me this way, we can be on our way. Farewell, Mother. Try not to burn down the hut while I'm away."

Bridget and Alistair once again followed Morrigan through the thick woods of the Wilds. Bridget felt uneasy of the daunting task ahead. She was no fool to the outside world and knew that getting these people to work together would not be an easy task, even with the fate of the world relying upon them. As if the Blight were not enough to worry about, she now had to worry over Loghain as well. What if he was like Howe, hell bent against the Orlesians even after all this time? Surely, he would not try to start a war with Orlais…yet who knew what he was capable of. A cold wind flew past them as they made their way through the swampy woods.

With that wind, Bridget remembered Percival's premonition of what would come. She had to be strong for the road that laid ahead, to avenge not only her family but Duncan, Cailan, and every man on that battlefield. The task before her was daunting, some would say impossible…Bridget didn’t know how she, Alistair, and Morrigan would unite the land in this time of need…but she squared her shoulders and looked ahead, scared, yet ready for whatever hand the game of fate decided to deal.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

On the Road

Kingsway 9:30 Dragon

The Imperial Highway

Morrigan turned out to be quite the traveler's guide as she led Bridget and Alistair through what remained of the Kocari Wilds. She offered facts and tidbits of history here and there whenever they passed anything of note, though she did not sound enthused about her new task at all.

"I cannot believe my mother would just…cast me away like this. I do hope we will at least see some form of excitement while on this journey, that way it will have been worth my while to accompany you."

"You didn't have to accompany us at all." Alistair stated under his breath.

Bridget noted the dirty look Morrigan shot him and sighed. She hoped they would learn to at least tolerate each other, for she did not have the time to mediate every disagreement that came up between them. Alistair did not say much along the way. He looked tired and worn, and his mouth was set into a deep frown. Bridget wished to speak with him about everything that had happened, to try and form some kind of plan…but she did not want Morrigan to be present when she did so in case the mage said something smart that angered Alistair. By the time they had gathered all their things and left Flemeth’s, the day was nearing noon. At twilight, Morrigan alerted the two Wardens that they were nearing the edge of the Wilds and should reach a town called Lothering within a few hours. After the group was ambushed by a small wave of Darkspawn, Bridget suggested that they set up camp for the evening. Neither Morrigan nor Alistair objected. They did not have tents now, but they did have cots they could roll out to keep them from sleeping on the cold, wet ground.

           Alistair made a small fire while Bridget rolled out and flattened her cot. Morrigan had made her own fire a few feet away from Alistair and Bridget’s and rolled out her own cot. She called Bridget over and informed her of the need to change her bandages. The brief battle with the few Darkspawn earlier had caused Bridget some pain, and when she lifted her shirt to reveal her bandages, they were damp with her blood.

           “I do not know healing magic as well as my mother does, I will do what I can, but we’ll be relying mostly on herbs and paste.” Morrigan stated.

Bridget nodded and winced as Morrigan’s hands erupted in the healing magic as she whispered the spell. The pain that Bridget felt left her suddenly and was replaced with a cool sensation. Morrigan applied the poltuice to Bridget’s ribs and wrapped new, clean bandages around the wound. Bridget thanked her and asked if she wanted to sit with her and Alistair by their fire. Morrigan looked at her and frowned.

           “I would rather not listen to that one’s moping. I enjoy my solitude and prefer to be alone…but I thank you for the offer.”

With that, she sat at her small fire with her back towards Bridget, effectively ending the conversation. Bridget walked back the short distance and sat next to Alistair. She noted that he was staring intensely into the fire and cleared her throat softly.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Alistair looked at her and then back to the fire.

           “No. You couldn’t possibly understand how I feel.” He retorted.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

           “No, I guess seeing my entire family murdered before my very eyes pales in comparison.” She said sarcastically.

Alistair softened and turned back to his fellow Warden. Bridget looked hurt and there were tears in her eyes. The pain of losing loved ones, for either of them, was all too fresh. Alistair sighed and picked up a stick to poke at the kindling of the fire.

           “Forgive me…in my own grief I had forgotten that you, too, know betrayal.”

Bridget drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.

           “It’s fine. So much has happened since we met, I shouldn’t have expected you to remember.” She replied sadly.

Alistair shook his head.

           “But I should have…I’m sorry.”

The two young Wardens were quiet as the evening sun began to set. The sky was a vibrant mix of purples, pinks, and reds as nightfall drew near. The crickets, frogs, and other dwellers of the night readied themselves for their nightly performance, and began softly at first, but as the darkness grew, so did the crescendos of their musical masterpieces. Alistair pulled out a roll of bread from his pack with his eating knife. He began to cut the bread and offered some to Bridget. Her stomach growled hungrily. She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was until just now, and, while the bread didn’t look very appetizing, Alistair may as well had given her a steak. Bridget grabbed the bread gratefully and began to eat it. She savored the taste of the baked good in her mouth and continued to eat what he had offered her. Alistair chuckled.

           “Hmm, my appetite changed too after I completed the Joining.” He stated.

Bridget looked at him as she took a swig of water from her wineskin. She blushed as she realized she probably looked like a hog devouring its slop for the day and Alistair laughed again.

           “Don’t be embarrassed! It happens to all of us! Ugh I remember after mine all I wanted to eat was cheese of all different shapes and sizes. And I did. Talk about a stomachache, I didn’t eat it for weeks afterwards…I’m honestly just now finding it appetizing again.”

Bridget smiled and didn’t feel as bad for devouring the bread. As it was still early and she wasn’t tired yet, she decided to ask Alistair some questions about the Wardens, and mainly, how they would tackle the insurmountable quest before them. Alistair chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

           “Well…I was hoping that you would have a plan, actually. I’m just as lost as you are.” He admitted.

Bridget furrowed her brow.

           “But you’ve been a Warden longer than I have, aren’t there any others we can contact?”

Alistair shook his head.

           “Not for much longer, I’m afraid…and we have contacted them. Problem is they are held up in Weissaupt Fortress up in the north. By the time the blizzards stop, you and I will probably already have the Arch Demon defeated.”

Bridget scoffed.

           “That’s very optimistic of you.” She retorted.

Alistair shrugged and smiled.

           “What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist. One of us has to be, and something tells me we’re not going to get any kind of positivity from Morrigan over there.”

Bridget chuckled and nodded. She took another sip from her wineskin and took a deep breath. To be quite honest, she was glad that Alistair was optimistic about their chances because she certainly was not. To unite a war-torn land with no king to guide them would be a very hard task indeed. Especially uniting all the varying races. Dwarves, Elves, Mages, and Humans? Prejudice ran deep amongst them all. Could they unite everyone against a single threat? Or would those prejudices prevent them from doing so? Bridget sighed and rested her head atop her knees. She glanced over at Alistair who looked equally as worried as she felt. To change the subject, she asked him about his life, where he grew up, how he became a Warden.

           “Well, I never knew my parents. My mother died at birth and my father was already…not around. So, the Chantry took me in and raised me. I was originally supposed to be a Templar, almost took my vows even but…that wasn’t the life that I wanted. If Duncan hadn’t recruited me I…I don’t know where I would be now. I’m forever grateful to him for taking me away from there. It’s not as flowery as everyone makes it out to be, you know.”

Bridget nodded in agreement. Alistair then asked her about her life, and she explained growing up in Highever. She reminisced riding on horseback with her father along the beach, how she always loved the feel of the sand between her toes. She told him about Nan, about Percival, about training. It was well into the night when Bridget realized she had maybe talked too much. Alistair chuckled.

           “No, don’t feel bad. I enjoyed hearing about your past. It might be best to try to get some rest though, we’ve a long journey ahead. I can take the first watch if you’d like to try and get some sleep, I don’t mind.” He stated.

Bridget smiled and stood. She patted out her bedroll and laid down atop it. Zeus trotted in a little circle before he curled up next to his mistress.

           “Thank you, Alistair. Just wake me when you need to sleep.”

Alistair nodded as he cut another piece of bread for himself.

           “No worries. Goodnight, Bridget.”

Bridget bid a goodnight to her fellow Warden and stared up into the twinkling stars of the night sky. The stars looked like diamonds against black velvet and twinkled ever so slightly. One would think that all was right in the world staring up at that sky. But Bridget knew that there were so many things that were going wrong all at once. Her eyelids became heavy as she slowly felt herself drift into the pool of the Fade. She drifted off to sleep, hoping that her dreams would comfort and console her, but unfortunately, they did everything but.

xXx

           Bridget’s eyes fluttered open as she blinked and stared up at the ceiling of her room. She drew her brows together as she slowly propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. Sunlight spilled in through her open panned windows, and a gentle breeze caught her drapes for a dance. There was something peacefully serene about it all and, with caution, Bridget stood. She grabbed her robe as she was only in her nightshift and tied it quickly around her waist. Had this all been a bad dream? Her surroundings around her were unchanged, they were just like the morning she woke up the night she lost her family. As Bridget exited her room and stepped into the foyer that led to her parent’s room and Fergus’s, she held her breath. No one was present, yet there was a calm stillness in the air.

           Bridget slowly walked down the stone steps, padding her bare feet lightly against the cool rock. She was on her guard, unsure of what to expect. She hugged the wall and continued until she reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Bridget noted a light flickering underneath the closed doors. She bit her lip as she nervously pushed the doors open. Bridget stepped into the room and a sob of relief and utter joy caught in her throat. Only a few feet ahead of her, stood her father. His back was to her, and his arms were folded behind him. Bridget felt tears run down her face as she ran forward. She threw her arms around her father from behind and hugged him tightly. She took a deep breath and breathed in his scent. He smelled of spice, firewood and pine, just as she remembered.

           “Oh Father, thank the Maker! I had the most horrendous dream! I…you…Arl Howe-”

           “Why did you leave me, Pup?” Bryce whispered softly.

Bridget ceased to ramble as she heard Bryce’s voice. She released him and took a step back. She shook her head.

           “What are you talking about?” she asked slowly.

Bryce’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, but he did not turn to face her.

           “You abandoned me, your mother…little Oren. Why? Why did you leave us?”

Bridget drew her brows together.

           “I didn’t leave! I didn’t want to leave! You made me go!”

At this, Bryce turned to face her, and Bridget screamed in horror. His skin was decomposing, it was an obscene mixture of grey, purple, and blue that created the most pallid and dead color Bridget had ever seen. His throat was slit, and blood covered his entire front. With every word he spoke, more blood spilled out from the gash in his throat.

           “You left us! You abandoned your family, your home! How could you do that to us? To me? You abandoned me, Pup. Left me to die!”

Tears streamed down Bridget’s face as she absorbed her father’s harsh words.

           “You left us both, Bridget. How could you do that to us?”

Bridget turned to see her mother step forward from the shadows. Another scream released from her throat as Eleanor came into light. Instead of her throat spilling blood from a mortal wound, it was her stomach. Bridget turned her head and winced at the gore hanging from her mother’s open wound. She gagged and felt as if she would be sick. When she looked up, she was eye level with her young nephew, Oren. Bridget fell backwards and tried to scramble away as she stared into his dead and lifeless eyes. He advanced on her, and as Bridget saw the dagger protruding from his chest and blood spurting everywhere, she shrieked.  

           “Why Auntie? You were supposed to protect us! But you killed us!” he cried.

Bridget tried to stand to her feet but could not find the strength, haunted by these ghosts had her rooted to the spot. Oriana and Fergus appeared before her next. Fergus with his face ripped off as she had found him in the Wilds and Oriana cradling her gaping and open womb where the child she and Fergus had conceived lie inside.

           “You killed my baby! Both of my babies!” Oriana wailed.

Bridget closed her eyes shut tight as her sobs became hysterical.

           “It wasn’t my fault!” she screamed.

Fergus scoffed.

           “I curse you, sister. You killed my entire family, and you will burn for it. You couldn’t do the one thing father asked of you and now we are all dead because of you!” his glossy skull shouted.

Bridget screamed as she put her hands over her ears. She did not dare to open her eyes. She could hear their voices repeatedly, blaming her.

           “You left us…”

           “You abandoned us…”

           “You are no daughter of mine…”

           “It’s your fault…”

           “We’re all dead because of you…”

Bridget screamed again as loudly as she could.

           “STOP! STOP! MAKER, MAKE IT STOP!”

           “Bridget! BRIDGET!”

At the sound of her name, Bridget’s eyes flew open. She stared up into Alistair’s worried face.

           “Calm down, calm down you’re safe! You’re safe!” he yelled.

Bridget didn’t realize that she was screaming and fighting him off. Her surroundings were a complete blur, everything was spinning, and she felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath. Alistair looked over to Morrigan who was running towards them with herbs in hand. She quickly sat in front of Bridget and lit the stick of herbs with a quick spell. Morrigan ran the herbs underneath Bridget’s nose and fanned the smoke to her.

           “Breathe, Bridget. You must breathe or you’ll throw yourself into a fit and I’m not going to be able to bring you out of that. Breathe in the sage!” Morrigan exclaimed, annoyed.

Bridget’s breaths came in quick, short gasps as she continued to look around frantically. Her surroundings were still spinning around her. First, she would make out glimpses of the camp, then she would be back in the great hall of her castle, surrounded by all her dead family accusing her of leaving them.

Alistair drew his brows together, clearly uncomfortable.

           “It’s not working, Morrigan! You need to do something!” he shouted.

Morrigan shot him a dirty look.

           “I am! Why don’t you do something instead of sitting there like a bump on a log! Hold her head still so she can breathe in this sage!” she snapped.   

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the witch, hurt that she saw him as being unhelpful when he was already trying to do all he could. He grabbed Bridget’s face gently in his hands and gazed into her eyes. She certainly wasn’t mentally present; her eyes were completely glazed over.

           “Deep breaths, Warden!” Morrigan said sternly.

Alistair’s heart ached to see Bridget like this. Though they had only known each other for a manner of days, he felt confident enough to call her a friend and he hated seeing his friends in distress. As Morrigan continued to try to coerce Bridget into calming down, Alistair tried himself.

           “Come back, Bridget. You’re at camp with Morrigan and I in the Korcari Wilds. You aren’t wherever you think you are. But you’ve got to come back.” He pleaded.

Bridget took a deep breath and breathed in the burning sage. It took a moment for the herbs to have their full effect. Slowly, the grips of Bridget’s nightmare released her. The screams stopped, her breathing returned to normal, and her eyes came back into focus. She blinked several times and then stared into Alistair’s eyes. He let out a relieved sigh. Tears filled Bridget’s eyes and, unexpectedly, she hugged Alistair tightly. Alistair was taken aback at first, but eventually wrapped his arms around her and held her in a comforting embrace as Bridget shook with sobs. He patted her back gently and unknowingly wound the ends of her tawny hair between his fingers. Alistair drew his brows together and glanced at Morrigan. She looked at Bridget sympathetically and, with great effort, patted her shoulder. Morrigan then stood, having seemingly shown enough emotional vulnerability, and made her way back to her own fire. Zeus whined as he nudged his mistress with his nose. Bridget slowly pulled away. Alistair felt her absence almost immediately. He gazed at her as she petted Zeus’s head.  Zeus nudged his head against her and licked her cheek affectionately.

Bridget looked back at Alistair and blushed, embarrassed.

           “Forgive me…for my outburst.” She sniffled.

Alistair raised his eyebrows.

           “You’re apologizing because you had a nightmare? Bridget, that’s not something you can control. Certainly, don’t apologize for that.”

Bridget averted her gaze from him, but then looked back.

           “I didn’t mean to turn into a blubbering mess…or cling to you like some frightened child. You must think I have the weakest constitution…”

Alistair shook his head and absentmindedly rested his hand on hers.

           “What I think…is that you have endured a tragedy and you are only reacting to it the same way any sane person would. I would be concerned if you didn’t have moments like this.” He explained.

Bridget looked at their hands briefly before she cast her gaze back to Alistair. His eyes were so kind and seamed to glow in the firelight. She felt bad for making him worry, yet at the same time, she was grateful that he cared enough about her to be worried. Alistair swam in the depths of Bridget’s gaze. He noted how easily it would be to become lost in those fierce azure eyes. Blue as the Amaranthine Sea and just as strong. He hadn’t asked how old she was, but she couldn’t be more than twenty, he assumed. Her face was young, though the tragic events that had unfolded in her life in the recent days had certainly taken a toll on her. However, even though she had not rested well probably ever since she fled her castle, she was still very beautiful. Alistair’s eyes widened at that moment, and he realized that he had held her hand for longer than what was appropriate and quickly pulled his away and rubbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.  

           “Sorry…I um…” he stuttered.

Before Bridget could reply, Morrigan came up to them with her pack over her shoulder. She stamped out their fire hastily.

           “We need to move. There’s no telling what your theatrics alerted in the forest. It isn’t safe here.” She stated.

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but Bridget shook her head.

           “She’s right. We need to go.”

Hastily and full of guilt, Bridget turned and rolled up her cot. She felt embarrassed and ashamed. Because of her, Alistair wouldn’t be able to get any sleep now that they had to move, and Morrigan was most likely furious since Bridget’s outburst had interrupted her own rest. The party was silent as Morrigan lit a small orb of fire to guide their way. As they pressed on Bridget heard Alistair yawn. She looked over her shoulder at him and noticed that he was rubbing his eyes. When Alistair glanced at her he tried to make himself look alert and smiled, but Bridget could see the sleepiness clinging to his bloodshot eyes. Once Morrigan deemed they had traveled far enough, she stopped.

           “We can rest here but not for long. Dawn will break soon, and we need to get to Lothering as early as possible in order to reach the market stalls first. I can obtain herbs to make a sleeping draught for you, Bridget, should you feel you need one.”

Bridget gave Morrigan a small smile and nodded her head.

           “Thank you, that would be much appreciated.” She replied sincerely.

Morrigan frowned.

           “It appears it will be our only option so that we will not have to pick up and move our entire campsite every time you go to sleep. There is a stream nearby, I’m going to go and refill my wineskin.”

With that, she turned and walked off. Alistair sighed.

           “She’s an absolute daisy, isn’t she?” he asked.

Bridget turned to face him as he sat down and rested his back against a tree. Zeus trotted over to him and laid down next to him, yawned, and quickly fell asleep. Bridget sat in front of Alistair and scratched Zeus’s back.

           “Indeed. Try and take a catnap if you can, I suspect we’ll probably be on the move again within the hour. I’ll make it up to you.”

Alistair snorted.

           “Please, this isn’t the first time I’ve gone without sleep you know. We used to have pillow fights in the Chantry dorms after light’s out. Some nights we’d stay up reading for hours or just talking. I’m a bit of a night owl anyway.”

Bridget gave him a small smile.

           “I’m trying to picture you as a lad, but I can only see you as you are now, wielding a pillow and beating a bunch of other grown men with a pillow in your skivvies.”

Alistair crinkled up his nose.

           “Well, when you say it like that it makes it all dirty and takes all the innocence out of it!” he chuckled.

Bridget giggled lightly and sighed.

           “Go on and take a nap, now.” She encouraged.

Alistair crossed his arms and rested his head back against the tree. He closed his eyes and yawned again.

           “Alright, alright. You’re the boss! Just protect me from Morrigan, would you? I don’t want to drop my guard down around her…might try to tun me into a toad or something.” He mumbled.

Just as he made his remark, Morrigan reappeared and scoffed.

           “If I was going to turn you into anything, Alistair…it wouldn’t be a toad.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows.

           “Oh really? And what would it be then? A worm? A little fuzzy bunny?”

Morrigan crossed her arms and smirked.

           “A jackass.” She replied confidently.

Bridget nearly choked on her sip of water as she burst out laughing. Alistair frowned and narrowed his eyes.

           “Damn you, I walked right into that.” He stated.

Morrigan nodded triumphantly.

           “Yes, you did.”

Alistair then looked at Bridget and pretended to be wounded, but smiled softly to himself as he noted the sparkle in her eyes.

           “And you! You’re supposed to be on my side! Fellow Warden and all!” he exclaimed.

Bridget shook her head as she grinned at him. She held up her hands in defeat.

           “Well, since I’m the leader of our little ragtag gang, I should be neutral, but you did truly walk right into that, mate.” She replied.

Alistair looked at Zeus and shook his head.

           “Women, eh boy?” he asked.

Zeus whined and then moved over to Bridget. He laid his head in her lap and wagged his tail. Alistair’s jaw dropped.

           “Ouch. That really hurt my feelings.” He stated with a grin.

Alistair was granted a short nap before the group had to press on. The sun would soon rise fully from it’s slumber, and Morrigan wanted them to be officially within Lothering before then. Bridget hoped that once they had made it to Lothering they could easily get the supplies they needed and form some type of plan on where to go next. However, as they trudged along the Imperial Highway and the bustling town came into view, as well as a gang of heavily armored men at the gates, Bridget composed herself to accept the fact that nothing on this journey would be easy. She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin in defiance, ready and willing to take whatever Lothering had to offer her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Lothering

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Lothering Gates

           Although Bridget and her friends were still a few feet away from the gates leading into Lothering, she could already make out that there were armored guards standing at the entrance. Bridget furrowed her brow. The way Morrigan spoke of Lothering, Bridget assumed it was a small village or town, not large enough to employ men at arms at it’s gates. She looked at Morrigan, who frowned as she noticed the men as well.

 “What joy, it appears that they have some kind of welcome party.” She said sarcastically.

 Bridget placed her hand on the hilt of her sword warily.

"I don't think they're here to welcome us." Alistair noted as he did the same.

Bridget stopped as the men at the bridge moved to block her path. They were of varying sizes and armored more than the simple traveler would be. Bridget also noted the corpse of a dead knight nearby. She searched his body for his belongings, hoped to find someone she could pass them on to in the village, and cut her eyes angrily at the men a few yards away.

"Ah look, more travelers! I'm afraid it's ten silvers to cross this bridge and enter our fair city of Lothering!" the skinny man in the front stated.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

"I wouldn't necessarily call this place 'fair' or even a 'city', quite honestly, gentlemen." She stated coolly.

Alistair noted the daggers at the men's sides.

"Highwaymen. Preying on the refugees no doubt." He whispered.

The large, dimwitted one out of the group noticed that something was a little different about Bridget and her friends compared to the other people they had preyed on.

"I don't know about this," he began slowly, his Ferelden accent quite thick, "perhaps we should just let them pass and be on their way?"

The leader of the malicious group turned to his friend and chuckled.

"Nonsense, Heinrick! Everyone pays the toll!"

His companion looked confused for a moment, then nodded.

"Oh right! So even if you're no refugee, you still gotta pay!"

The leader nodded.

"Yes, yes, so, what will it be? Ten silvers and you pass. 'Tis something you look like you could spare, Milady. With that golden hair of yours and that pretty complexion, I'd say you look as good as a wellborn princess!"

Bridget frowned. She had next to no money on her and what little she had needed to be saved so they could buy supplies. She was not about to hand over anything to these no-good bandits.

"I do not have that kind of coin." She stated calmly.

The leader narrowed his eyes and took a step towards her. Alistair moved by instinct, close to her side, though he wasn't sure exactly where that instinct came from. The leader raised an eyebrow at him before turning his attention back to Bridget. He eyed her up and down and whistled slightly.

"Now, what if I don't believe you? Would you let me search you? You're the prettiest thing that's come by this way, and my men and I are so very lonely. I suppose there are…other ways you could pay us if you didn't have the coin, am I right, gentlemen?" he asked as he turned back to his group.

The men whistled and hooted in agreement. He turned his attention back to Bridget and moved his hand to touch her face, but never got the chance. Bridget moved so quickly; the bandit leader didn’t have time to react. She gripped his wrist in her hand, hard and squeezed as tightly as she could.

 “Touch me and you will lose this hand.” She stated venomously.

Alistair and Morrigan both started, ready to attack in a moment. The bandit leader tried to not look as if he was in pain, but his nostrils flared, and he began to sweat profusely.

Bridget narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip.

 “You’re going to let us pass. You’re also going to return everything that you have stolen from the refugees. Then, you’ll let the authorities punish you in the way they see fit from preying upon these people who have already lost everything. Failure to do so will result in needless loss of life and limbs. Am I clear?”

The other bandits also readied themselves to attack but as Bridget bent the leader’s wrist in an abnormal way and felt the bone shift and pop beneath his skin, she bore her eyes into his and willed him to challenge her.

With great effort, the bandit leader gave in.

 “Alright, alright! Stand down you dumb brutes, let them pass!”

Bridget released him and he fell to his knees, cradling his hand like a puppy who had injured its paw.

 “Bloody bitch…” he grumbled under his breath.

The leader yelped as Bridget yanked him by his hair and made him face her. This time, she held her dagger at his throat.

 “What did you just say?” she asked slowly.

The bandit leader, fully accepting defeat, whimpered and shook his head.

 “Nothing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he blubbered.

Bridget stood and looked down at him. She then backhanded him so hard that his nose began to bleed. The other bandits shrunk in the background, some were already beginning to return the money and items that they had stolen.

 “I should take out your tongue for that insult, but you aren’t worth it.” She spat.

A local guard and a Templar appeared behind the bandits, and they were arrested on the spot. The Templar thanked Bridget profusely and handed her a coin purse full of a few silver pieces.

 “For your trouble, I appreciate that this did not end in bloodshed. Thank you.” He stated.

Bridget nodded her head to him and turned to face her other two companions. They both stared at her.

 “What?” Bridget asked.

Morrigan smiled.

 “I quite enjoyed that. I always take pleasure in seeing weak men fall to their knees in pain due to being overpowered by a strong woman. I quite like you.” She stated.

Bridget chuckled bashfully as she and her friends entered Lothering. Morrigan was eager to make it to the market stalls before they became overrun with villagers and refugees. As they progressed across the bridge, Alistair couldn’t take his eyes off Bridget. He was absolutely flabbergasted how she could possess enough strength to nearly break that bandit’s wrist. He took a moment to thank the Maker that they were on the same side of this war, and made a mental note to never get on her bad side.

The scene upon entering the village was unexpected. Bridget hadn’t realized already how many folks had been displaced by the Darkspawn. Tents peppered the field that lay before them. Humans and elves alike were among the refugees. Despite the destitute and disparity of the situation, however, the folk were making the most of what they could. The women were either washing their garments in the river or near a few cooking pots, stirring a delectable stew that smelled heavenly and made Bridget’s mouth water. Children were chasing each other and laughing, playing games of hide and seek and capture the ‘darkspawn’. The men looked worried the most of all. Some were sharpening their swords; others were heading back up to the main bridge on the Imperial Highway to retrieve their stolen belongings now that the guard had announced that the bandits were gone. The sense of community amongst these people who had lost their homes was comforting. Bridget realized that even in the darkest of times, the light of hope could go a long way. Her thoughts were interrupted by her stomach growling, and she realized she had not eaten anything other than the bit of bread Alistair had shared with her the previous evening.

“Before we go any further, may we speak?”

Alistair’s voice brought Bridget out of her thoughts. She turned to face him while Morrigan kept on.

 “You two can gladly stand here and waste time, I am making sure I get the items that I need. I sincerely suggest you do not tarry. These people will turn to wolves once the markets open. I will be there when you are ready to regroup and press on.”

She shot Alistair a dirty look, clearly blaming him for holding them up from the task at hand and walked on across a small wooden bridge and into the main part of the village. He frowned after her and allowed himself to imagine, for one moment, how nice it would have been if she had just stayed back in the Korcari Wilds with her mother.

 “What did you want to talk about, Alistair?”

He returned his attention to Bridget and opened his mouth to say something, but as he looked at her, his breath left him. The sun was shining boldly in the sky this morning and it made Bridget’s hair gleam in it’s light. Alistair noted that her hair was not just blonde but looked like several strings of various golden colors together. He noted that her eyes were a little taut from the sleeplessness she experienced the night before, and he vowed to himself that he would offer to stay up for first watch again tonight so that she could get some sleep. The dusting of the few freckles that danced upon her face were interesting, she must have spent a lot of time in the sunshine as a child. Her lips were a rosy pink and plump and they were set in a curious frown. Alistair blinked and cleared his throat.

 “Ah…sorry, lost my thought for a moment. What I wanted to ask was, where do we plan to go after here? We have the treaties for the mages, elves, and dwarves…but if I may suggest, I believe Redcliffe would be the best place to start. Arl Eamon’s men never made it to Ostagar, and I know the Arl personally, he will not stand for what Loghain is doing. He’ll help us, I’m sure of it.”

Bridget took a moment to consider Alistair’s response and looked over her companion just as he had done to her only moments ago. Alistair looked very young, probably not a year or two Bridget’s senior. There was a true kindness in his eyes that comforted Bridget in a way she couldn’t really describe. She was thankful that he was as easy going and friendly as he was, for she did not know how she would handle him if he was ill tempered. She nodded in agreement.

 “Yes, I agree. Redcliffe will be a good starting point. When we settle into camp tonight, we can consult our map and see where exactly we should go next. I never travelled far outside of Highever, I’m not sure how far apart the mages, dwarves and elves are.”

Alistair looked down.

 “Duncan was from Highever, originally. I don’t think he stayed there very long, but it was his home. I’d like to go there some day, to remember him.” He said more to himself than to Bridget.

Bridget tentatively reached for Alistair and touched his forearm. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

 “Then perhaps we can go together. I eventually want to return home one day…though I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to see my home in ruins.”

Alistair looked back to Bridget and slowly placed his hand atop hers and squeezed it gently.

 “You won’t be alone, I’ll be there, beside you…should you need me.” He said softly.

Bridget sighed.

 “You and I…we have not had time to properly mourn. I recognize that Duncan was like a father to you. His loss is affecting you just as much as my loss is affecting me. If you ever want to talk about him, to reminisce…I’ll gladly lend an ear to listen.” She stated.

Alistair nodded and gave her a small smile.

 “And I you.”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other, Alistair’s hand still holding Bridget’s and she still holding onto his arm. Zeus tipped his head to the side as he watched this exchange. He moved to sit squarely in between them, looked up a Bridget, and whined loudly. The moment gone, Bridget chuckled and bent down to pet her faithful hound.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Zeus. Come, let’s go see if we can find a bone for you to chew on.”

Bridget took the lead and began to walk towards the wooden bridge into the village. Zeus looked over his shoulder at Alistair and Alistair could have sworn the dog smirked at him.

“You did that on purpose!” he exclaimed.

The mabari simply turned back around, held his head high, and pranced after his mistress. Alistair chuckled and shook his head.

“I wasn’t trying anything you know, I would never…Maker I’m talking to a dog, I need something to eat.” Alistair noted as his stomach growled loudly.

He followed Bridget across the short bridge and they were greeted by a very tired guard.

 “Ho there, I’m sorry but if you’re looking for lodgings, we have no more room. Hence why you see all those people behind you. Our supplies are also running low. With no king to help us and the Darkspawn nipping at our heels, we’ve not got much to offer, I’m afraid.”

Bridget looked at the man sympathetically.

 “I’m so sorry for all of this devastation. Is there any way you could help two Grey Wardens? We have a long journey ahead and,”

The guard gasped then looked from her to Alistair curiously and raised his eyebrows.

 “Hold a moment, you say you are Grey Wardens? The Wardens that were at Ostagar?” he asked.

Bridget pursed her lips together and weighed her options. She had a wary feeling enter her stomach and was afraid to answer the man’s question truthfully. The guard looked around them apprehensively and then motioned for them to move off the bridge. Bridget and Alistair followed him behind a nearby house, curious as to why he was acting so strange. The guard looked around again to make sure no one else was around, then turned his attention back to the young Wardens.

           “Look, you probably don’t want to be going around saying you were at Ostagar. These were put up this morning from a small band of Teyrn Loghain’s men.” He explained.

The guard handed Bridget a piece of crumpled paper. She unfolded it and gasped, too angry to even form a coherent thought. Alistair looked over her shoulder to see what it said.

           “Wanted for high treason and murder of the king…”

Alistair then gasped as he saw a sketch of himself and Bridget, and the large sum of gold for their heads. Bridget tore up the wanted poster angrily and scoffed.

 “How dare he try to pin his treason on us!” she hissed.

The guard looked around anxiously again and shrugged.

 “I wasn’t there so I don’t know what happened…all I know is my Pa told me stories about the Grey Wardens when I was a lad. You all don’t seem the lot that would betray anyone, let alone the king. Those men of Loghain’s are holed up in the tavern causing quite the ruckus, or so I’ve heard. Be safe out there, the wind carries their poisonous lies to the east and west, north and south. It won’t be long before they’ve tried to turn all of Fereldan against you.” He stated.

Bridget nodded and placed her hand on the man’s shoulder.

 “Thank you for your kindness.” She said sincerely.

He nodded and made his way back to his post, anxiously taking note of his suroundigs to make sure they were not overheard.

Bridget looked up at Alistair and tipped her head to the side.

 “I find myself in sudden want of a drink, don’t you? Shall we head to the tavern?”

Alistair’s own blood was boiling at the treacherous lies of Loghain’s men. Throwing his usual caution to the side, he agreed, and he and Bridget made their way across the market and to the tavern. She caught Morrigan’s eye and motioned for her to join them, knowing that these men would probably not go down without a fight. It was quite small and cramped inside; the people holed up in it were practically elbow to elbow. The air smelled of alcohol and sweat. It was not a pleasant place to be. Apparently, the citizens of Lothering were listening in on a few men who stood in the middle of the tavern, spewing lies about what had happened at Ostagar.

"I swear to you, we never saw the beacon that the Grey Wardens were supposed to light, we went onto that battlefield and saw our good King Cailan, Maker rest his soul, slaughtered to pieces! The Wardens are traitors! It is because of them we now have no king; it is because of them that we will fall to the Darkspawn!"

Bridget pursed her lips together and clenched her jaw. She could tolerate a lot, but someone who blatantly lied and slandered herself and her friends, she could just not ignore. She stepped forward with her sword and shield at the ready, making sure everyone saw the Cousland crest emblazoned upon it. Upon seeing her step forward, Loghain's soldier quieted down.

"Look, it's the bitch that was responsible for killing our king! She is the one who failed to light the beacon and left the battlefield like a coward!"

Bridget's face burned bright red, not out of embarrassment, but out of anger.

"I did no such thing. You should not spew false accusations about things you know nothing about. Men lose their tongues for that! My friend and I did light the beacon to signal Loghain's men, but your leader failed to respond to it! It was Loghain who left Cailan to die!" Bridget stated.

Whispers filled the tavern as the people looked around at each other uneasily, unsure of who to believe.

"How dare you insult Teyrn Loghain like this! He loves and cares for his country and would never betray his king!"

Bridget gripped her sword tighter.

"Want to bet? I am no common place liar like you. Cousland blood boils through my veins, and if you ever knew my father, you would know that he had no patience when it came to those who were untruthful. I have inherited that trait."

The guard raised his eyebrows.

"You say you can't tolerate liars, yet you are one yourself! Everyone knows about the tragedy that befell the Cousland family! There were no survivors! Not only are you a liar, but you are also an imposter!"

Bridget swallowed. It was all she could do to stand back from attacking this man. Percival always taught her to control her emotions and never act on them, but she could not help herself. She started forward, sword at the ready, but stopped abruptly when a sister from the Chantry stepped between her and the other guard. She wore her red hair short, to her chin and was clothed in the robes of the Chantry. She looked harmless and defenseless.

"Please, there is no need for bloodshed here. I am sure that you two can work out your problems through words!" she pleaded.

Bridget shook her head.

"I want to listen to nothing more this man says, he has already insulted me enough. The time for words has passed."

The man spit on the ground at Bridget and the sister’s feet.

"Out of the way, twat. This bitch wants a fight, she'll get one!"

Alistair removed his sword and shield as well. Surprisingly, the sister also had to twin daggers that were hidden up her sleeves.

"So be it." She stated.

In a flurry, Bridget and her friends attacked. Bridget went for the leader whilst Alistair and the Chantry Sister took on his lackeys. Morrigan stayed in the back, knowing that due to the enclosed area, her spells could possibly injure the innocent villagers in the room. She aided, however, by enchanting Bridget and the other's weapons, making them stronger. Bridget showed absolutely no mercy to the head guard. She bashed him with her shield and went for an opening at his shin, slicing the skin easily through the splint mail he wore. He howled in pain as he fell to the floor, gripping his leg to try and stop the blood from gushing out. Alistair knocked the man he was fighting out cold with one fell swoop of his sword, and the sister had also subdued her opponent to the point where he was near tears whimpering in the corner.

"I yield, I yield!" the leader choked out as he pressed harder into his leg.

Bridget had the tip of her sword aimed directly at his throat. She narrowed her eyes at him, fully intending on ending his life.

"Wait!"

Bridget turned at the sister’s voice.

"He has surrendered, there is no reason for any more bloodshed, he,"

Before she could finish her sentence, the leader kicked Bridget's legs out from under her with his good leg, and Bridget crashed to the ground. She rolled out of the way as he attempted to bring his sword down on her arm, as Alistair came up behind him and stabbed him through his back. The man sputtered up blood as he made a deep, guttural noise, before falling to the floor, cold and dead. Alistair removed his blade and moved to help Bridget stand. He offered her his hand, and she took it, grateful. She turned back to look at the sister and frowned.

"This is a time of war. There is no such thing as mercy." She stated coldly.

The Sister blushed.

"Forgive me. I truly thought he had surrendered." She said quietly.

Bridget stepped forward and looked down at the leader with disgust. She then looked at his two companions and noted that they looked like they had no intention to provoke them any further. Bridget swallowed and looked at all of the citizens within the tavern.

"Let it be known that the Wardens were not the ones who betrayed the king. It was Loghain. I do not know what his plans are, or why he never answered our signal, but he is the one who quit the field. My friends and I are trying to mend what has been broken. I know that everyone is scared. Scared of the Darkspawn, scared of our future with no King to guide us through this battle. I am no king, but I will do my best to lead us to victory, if it comes to that." She stated calmly.

Deep down, however, Bridget was scared to her wits end. She did not have the experience to lead an army, but something within her told her that she would have too, whether she was ready for it or not. She turned her attention to the others.

"Let us get our supplies and head out; I am ready to leave this place."

Bridget and her friends turned to leave. They stepped back outside into the sunlight and Bridget moved towards the market stalls but stopped abruptly when the Chantry sister moved to stand in front of her.

“I apologize again for what happened in there, please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Leliana. I am a sister here at the local Chantry."

Bridget rubbed the small of her back, wincing slightly at the pain from where she had fell.

"I can see that. Didn't think Sisters knew how to wield two daggers the way you do, though." She noted.

Leliana cleared her throat, embarrassed.

"Yes, well, everyone has a past, do they not? I believe I heard you say you were going on a journey. I would like to come with you. I can offer many assets, I am a skilled rogue and bard, and the Maker has told me to come with you so here I am!"

Bridget looked at Alistair and Morrigan. They both shared her confused expression.

"I thought we were all filled up on the crazy." Alistair whispered under his breath.

Bridget drew her brows together.

"Come again?" she asked. Perhaps she had hit her head when she fell earlier and was having problems hearing. Leliana blushed.

"I…know how this sounds. But it's true! He gave me a vision. In it the world grew dark, the earth grew black, black with the ashes of humanity and the taint of the Darkspawn. But then the Maker appeared, and he told me 'Seek the one who will restore peace, balance, and prosperity to the world that I created. She is a woman of strength, kindness, and ingenuity, for she will be the one to save the world.'"

Leliana turned to a nearby rose bush. Of the roses that had grown from it, only one remained in bloom.

"Even now things are beginning to fade." She noted as she gestured towards the wilting roses. Leliana turned her attention back to Bridget.

"Faith is a very powerful thing to have in a time like this; it's what keeps many people from just giving up completely. I believe you need someone like me to help restore that in you. You look as though you could use someone to believe in you and encourage you through the hard times that lie ahead."

Bridget looked at Alistair and Morrigan. Morrigan shook her head, immediately denouncing Leliana and Alistair appeared to be preoccupied with staring at the rosebush. Bridget closed her eyes and sighed.

"I will not turn away help when it is offered." She stated.

Alistair and Morrigan looked at each other and then back at Bridget.

"Wonderful! Let me fetch my things from the Chantry, I will be right back!"

The minute the bard stepped away, Morrigan rounded on Bridget.

"You do realize this is a bad idea, do you not? This is another person who will need a tent and food to eat out of our supplies. Perhaps you hit your head harder than Mother originally thought."

Bridget shrugged.

"What choice do I have? When someone is willing to help us, I can't just turn them away. I know this will mean more supplies, but she appears to be very skilled with those daggers. We could use that do our advantage."

Morrigan frowned.

"If you insist, but I still believe bringing her will be a waste of supplies. I also have no desire to hear her preaching about the Maker every bloody second, but you are the leader here, not I. Do what you will."

Bridget was thankful that Morrigan dropped the argument so easily. As Leliana regrouped with the party and led Bridget to the nearby supply stall, Alistair tipped his head to the side as he continued to stare at the lone healthy rose on the rosebush.

“I wonder why this flower wasn’t touched by the taint?” he asked aloud.

Morrigan, who was brooding nearby looked over at him and rolled her eyes.

“Obviously it has been kissed by magic. A mage must have passed through and enchanted it so that it would never wither.” She explained coolly.

Alistair contemplated the rose for another moment.

“If I pluck it, will the spell break?” he asked curiously.

Morrigan became irritated.

“I do not know, Alistair. Why do you care for such a bauble? Are you going to take up flower arranging instead of fighting the Darkspawn?”

She had struck a chord and Alistair shot her a dirty look.

“Why must you always be so hateful? I haven’t done or said a single thing to you, I don’t know why you are such a venomous snake!” he exclaimed.

Morrigan’s eyes widened, and she smiled maliciously, eager to have provoked a response.

“Because you are a weak man who has to lean on a strong woman like Bridget just to make it through the bloody day. All you do is fall over your sword in grief for your senior warden, yet you have been a Warden longer than Bridget and you expect her to lead you! You have put the weight of leadership on her shoulders when she did not ask for it. As the senior of the two of you, it should be you leading, not her!” she fumed.

Before Alistair could respond, Bridget appeared between them and held out her arms to separate them.

“Enough! If you two can’t get along then we will all walk in silence until we make camp tonight, am I understood?” she asked sternly.

For a moment, Bridget was reminded of her mother and how she used to break up squabbles between her and Fergus growing up. She smiled slightly at how she sounded like her but returned her attention to her two companions. Bridget looked at Morrigan who smirked devilishly and walked off, with a sense as though she had won. She then looked to Alistair who looked hurt, and he would not meet her gaze.

“What were you two fighting about this time?” Bridget inquired.

Alistair shook his head, and still would not meet her eyes.

“Nothing…it doesn’t matter.” He stated.

He then hurried past Bridget, stuffing something in his pack as he briskly walked past. Bridget looked at Leliana who regarded her sympathetically before following her Alistair and Morrigan. As a group, they explored more of Lothering. They helped solve a squabble between a merchant and a Sister, and at last bought the supplies they needed which, unfortunately, wiped out nearly all the money they had. Bridget frowned at the three copper pieces in her hand and sighed.

"Well, at least we got what we needed."

The group continued to traipse through Lothering, helping the refugees where they could. They stumbled upon a young boy whose mother had gone missing and escorted him into the Chantry. He was immediately taken in by one of the brothers there and given a blanket.

"Poor child, to be scared and alone at such a young age. His mother was attacked by wolves some days ago, I saw her body when I was out harvesting Elfroot. Everyone knew her, she was such a kind and sweet lady. We will look after the child, thank you for seeing to his safety."

To Bridget's surprise, the brother gave her twenty silver pieces. Had she not needed the money so desperately, she would have politely refused. She had no choice though. As the group turned to leave, Alistair stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

"Ser Donall? Is that you?"

Bridget and the others turned to Alistair walking towards a man in ornate armor with chestnut brown hair and a matching beard. The man narrowed his eyes at Alistair a moment before they widened and lit up with recognition.

"By the Maker, Alistair! Is that really you? You've shot up about two feet since I saw you last! What in the Maker's name brings you out here?" he asked as he grasped Alistair’s arm and squeezed it kindly.

Alistair recounted the events of what happened at Ostagar and introduced Bridget to Ser Donall. He bowed gracefully.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady, though I wish it were under better circumstances indeed. I apologize for all that you have lost. Arl Eamon will see that Loghain knows his place, if he gets better."

Alistair raised a brow.

"What do you mean? Is the Arl sick?" he asked worriedly.

Ser Donall nodded.

"Aye. Some strange illness befell the Arl not too long before the disaster at Ostagar. He is alive, but barely. Isolde has sent nearly all of his knights out on what I believe is a fool's errand trying to locate the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

Bridget drew her brows together.

"You mean Andraste's Ashes? I thought that was a myth?" she asked seriously.

Ser Donall sighed.

"You are not the only one that believes that. I believe this was more of a quest of desperation than anything else. I am to await my friend, Ser Henric and we are to travel back to Redcliffe together."

Bridget frowned. She did not wish to be the bearer of bad news.

"I…I regret to inform you, but your friend is dead. We discovered his body upon entering Lothering, here is his locket and a letter." Bridget stated as she handed Donall Henric's mementos.

"Damn…I wonder how many more of us have met similar fates on this mad quest? Thank you for returning these, my lady. I will see that his family receives them. On that note, I should make my way back to Redcliffe. Maker be with you on your journey."

Donall bowed and swiftly left the Chantry. Bridget sighed sadly as she turned to look at Alistair. She could tell by the look on his face that he was most likely shared her thoughts.

"This isn't good, if Eamon is ill to the point of no return…we will be facing Loghain alone with no support from the Landsmeet." Bridget stated.

They left the Chantry and continued their conversation as they made their way through Lothering, heading back towards the Imperial Highway. Alistair shook his head.

"You are from nobility; do you think your voice would have some pull?" he asked hopefully.

Bridget shrugged.

"I highly doubt it. I never went with my father to any of the gatherings save for when I was very small. Loghain's man in the tavern didn't even believe me when I said I was my father's daughter. If no one believes who I say I am, it would be impossible to garner any kind of support. I believe Eamon is our only chance, not unless there is someone else that could have a stronger claim to the throne." She stated.

Alistair swallowed nervously and looked away from his companion.

“Right…well, I suggest we not tarry and head to Redcliffe as quickly as possible.” He said quickly.

Bridget stared after Alistair as he walked ahead of her and furrowed her brow. She wondered why he would end the conversation so quickly. As the group made their way out of Lothering, they noticed a foreboding man that was locked in a cage. Bridget felt uneasy as she looked at him and decided not to approach him. Before they were able to get back to the Imperial Highway, a small group of Darkspawn blocked their path and tried to attack a Dwarven caravan.

Bridget and her friends made quick work of the Darkspawn and saved the Dwarf and his goods. He went on to introduce himself as Bodhan Feddic. He and his son, Sandal were traveling merchants. Bridget offered to allow him to travel with her and her friends. The dwarf was hesitant to accept, stating that there might be too much adventure on Bridget’s path for him and his simple cart, however, he ultimately decided that he would follow close behind and camp nearby them so as to not be in their way, but close enough for protection should any Darkspawn or ne’er-do-wells attempt to attack them.

As the day slowly turned into twilight, and the party found a good place to camp, Bridget could not help but worry about Arl Eamon. If he was truly as sick as Donall had stated, gaining his voice for the Landsmeet would be a difficult task indeed. As everyone began to set up their tents, Bridget tried to imagine where to go from here. The treaties called for the help of so many people, none of them within proximity to each other. Bridget stared warily into the campfire as she said a silent prayer to the Maker for Arl Eamon, hoping and praying that whatever sickness he had would release him so that he would be able to help them…but just like every other task Bridget had to face so far, it would not be easy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

To Redcliffe

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Camp

            As it turned out, Leliana proved to be an incredible asset to the party. Not only had she trained in dual daggers for some time, but she was also very skilled with a bow and managed to successfully capture two rabbits for their supper that evening. Bridget helped Leliana skin and wash the meat while Alistair gathered firewood and started the fire. Soon enough, the two rabbits were roasting above the flame, and Leliana slowly turned the spit so that they would cook thoroughly. While the rabbits continued to cook and Leliana prepared the pot to add the meat to for their stew, Bridget and Alistair decided to go ahead and put up their own tents while the setting sun could still aid them. Bridget had removed her armor to get comfortable and was clad in a forest green tunic and dark brown leggings.

Alistair had in his mind to remove his armor as well, though he was having a hard time reaching the strap that held his breastplate in place. He gave a frustrated sigh and looked around. Leliana was still busy tending to the meal, Morrigan was well off from the others as per usual setting up her own tent, not that Alistair would have asked her for hep anyway, and Zeus was happily rolling in the dirt nearby playing with a bone he found along the Imperial Highway earlier that day. Bridget was hammering the stakes for her tent into the ground nearby. She stood as she finished her work and began to assemble her tent. Alistair watched as Bridget stretched the canvas over it’s skeleton and pull the rope to hold it in place. Her shirt rode up slightly as she stretched her arms above her head and Alistair caught a glimpse of Bridget’s midriff. He blushed and looked away quickly then cleared his throat as he approached her.

“Can I bother you to help me with this stupid strap?” he asked.

Bridget looked over her shoulder at him and smiled friendly at him.

“Sure, I think I’ve almost got this…”

Bridget tied off the rope and stepped back to look at her efforts. She smiled triumphantly at her small, misshapen tent but immediately became crestfallen when the entire thing fell in on itself and collapsed to the ground. Bridget groaned.

“Damn thing, I knew that merchant cheated me.” She grumbled under her breath.

She turned her attention to Alistair who was trying not to laugh. Bridget narrowed her eyes at him.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

Alistair laughed.

“Nothing, nothing! You just looked so proud of yourself after putting together a simple little tent, that’s all!” he exclaimed.

Bridget rolled her eyes and smiled as she approached him. She instructed him to lift his arms out to his sides so she could easily get to the straps of his breastplate.

“Well, my sword-master didn’t teach me the fine arts of tent assembling, you know.” She quipped.

Alistair chuckled as Bridget began to unclasp the straps to his armor. First, she released the straps on the left side, then those that were on the right. She helped him pull the breastplate above his head and gently set it on the ground. Alistair rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms.

“Ah, much better! Thanks for that! Now, let me help you fix this tent in return!”

Bridget grinned as Alistair helped rebuild her tent. The pair made quick work of putting it back together and then tackled the job of constructing Alistair’s. By the time they were finished, they were both famished and ready to eat. Leliana called the companions over to the fire and dipped the stew into small bowls for them each to eat. Morrigan, of course, did not bother to eat with anyone else and took her food back to her own tent. Bridget and Alistair sat next to each other and eagerly began to eat. The stew tasted delectable and warmed Bridget’s chilled bones. The seasonings and spices Leliana used danced and popped against Bridget’s taste buds and she found herself going back for seconds and even thirds. As Alistair downed his last bowl, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed happily.

“You know, Leliana. I’m glad you’ve joined our little group here. I didn’t think I could live off stale bread for very long!” he exclaimed.

Bridget nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, this was a wonderful meal, Leliana. Thank you.” She stated.

Leliana grinned.

“I am happy to be here. I know how crazy I must have sounded when I told you of my vision, Bridget. But I know deep in my heart that it is my destiny to be on this journey with you. The cooking skills I picked up whilst in the Chantry are just a bonus!”

Bridget laughed and nodded. Her belly was full, and her eyelids were beginning to get heavy, but the thought of sleep and the nightmares that awaited her made her shiver and shook her awake. Tired as she was, sleep terrified her. She did not want a repeat of what had happened the last time they were in camp. Bridget stood as Leliana took their dirty cutlery and bowls to the nearby stream to clean them. She walked over towards Morrigan’s tent. The mage looked up from the tome she was reading and acknowledged Bridget with a nod. She motioned towards her own small campfire and Bridget noted the small cauldron bubbling atop it.

“Your sleeping draught. I was able to find the appropriate ingredients while we were in Lothering. It will take a few hours to brew, if you want to take the first watch, I can relieve you when the potion is ready.” Morrigan explained.

Bridget gave her a small smile and nodded.

“Yes, and thank you, Morrigan. I really appreciate it.”

Morrigan shrugged.

“You need your rest, Warden. If we lose you, Ferelden is doomed. Alistair certainly isn’t in any position to replace you.” She quipped.

Bridget frowned.

“You are too harsh, Morrigan. He has lost someone dear to him,” Bridget began, but Morrigan cut her off.

“And you have lost your entire family, yet I do not see you losing yourself except only in your dreams. You are much stronger than he is, and it is quite evident. All I am saying is that you need to take care of yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going to try to sleep while the potion continues to brew.”

Bridget sighed as she didn’t have the energy to argue and walked back to the main campfire. Leliana asked if it was alright if she could rest now too and relieve Alistair after a few hours as she had spent the entire night before up in the Chantry praying and contemplating her vision. Bridget noted the tired bags under her eyes and nodded. Leliana thanked her profusely and retired to her tent. Once again, Alistair and Bridget sat alone near the fire. Zeus had curled up outside of Bridget’s tent and drifted into a deep sleep. His ears twitched here and there, and he would, at times, release a guttural snore. Bridget grabbed her cloak and draped it over her shoulders as a cold wind danced through the air. Alistair added more kindlin to the fire as Bridget sat back down next to him. She had grabbed their map when she had gotten her cloak. She unrolled it and studied it briefly.

“Hmm…we shouldn’t be too far from Redcliffe. Perhaps two days? What I wouldn’t give for a few horses.”

Alistair chuckled.

“Yes, I’m not fond of all these rocks sneaking their way into my boots. Arl Eamon has a large stable, he may be able to spare a few horses.”

Bridget glanced at Alistair.

“Have you been to Redcliffe before? You speak as if you’re familiar with the area.” She stated.

Alistair’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized that he had slipped up and revealed that he knew the area. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah…yes. Let me explain. All I know of my mother was that she was a serving girl in the Arl’s castle. When she died after my birth, the Arl took me in. He raised me for some time until he married. Afterwards…well…I was sent to the Chantry.”

Bridget regarded Alistair sympathetically.

“You mean he abandoned you?” she asked softly.

Alistair shook his head.

“No…it’s hard to explain. Eamon’s wife is Orlesian, and they were married soon after the war. A lot of people assumed that Eamon was secretly my father because he was so eager to take in a bastard. But he wasn’t my father, he was trying to show kindness to an innocent baby. Isolde, Eamon’s wife, didn’t like the idea of me, however. I believe a part of her believed the rumors herself. To appease her and save his marriage, I was sent to the Chantry in Redcliffe…and there I stayed until Duncan recruited me six months ago.”

Bridget frowned.

“What an awful thing to do to a child.” She stated.

Alistair sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t blame him…I’m sure I was a handful. I remember the day he told me I grew so angry that I took a locket of my mother’s, the only thing that I had of hers, and threw it against the wall of my room. Of course, it broke once it hit the wall. A stupid and foolish thing to do.”  

Bridget tilted her head to the side.

“You were young.” She stated.

Alistair snorted.

“Indeed, but that’s no excuse. I remember Eamon came to the Chantry several times to apologize, but I refused to see him. I regret that now. I hope…I hope I’ll have the chance to apologize for my behavior. Maker, I hope he’s alright.” Alistair replied solemnly.  

Bridget squeezed Alistair’s arm affectionately. He shifted his gaze to her, and his breath caught. It’s funny how blue was just another color until he had seen the blue of her eyes. He was beginning to realize how much the firelight complimented Bridget’s features and found that he greatly appreciated his fellow Warden in this light.

“We can only hope that whatever his illness is will pass and he can help us. Without him, I don’t know what we’ll do. Cailan didn’t have any children, Eamon’s the closest relative that could ascend to the throne and remove Loghain as regent.” Bridget stated.

Alistair investigated the fire and contemplated the crackling flames for a moment.

“Indeed…without him we may be at a loss.” He replied slowly.

Alistair’s throat went dry as Bridget continued to talk about something else. Her voice drained out as he sighed deeply. Now was not a good time to tell her, and he wasn’t sure when the right time would arise or if it ever would. But not now, and not ever if he could help it. Bridget’s gasp suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at her to see that she was staring up into the night’s sky. The stars twinkled and winked at them. Bridget smiled sadly.

“When I was a girl, I was fascinated by the stars. My father always let me stay up a little later than I probably should have to look at them. He would take me to the top of our castle and hoist me up onto his shoulders…”

Bridget closed her eyes at the memory. Alistair watched her and smiled. She looked so happy when she remembered her father.

“I used to think I could touch those stars when on his shoulders. Father would point out all the constellations and even brought me a small telescope so I could see them that much closer. The wind would caress my face and dance with my hair. I remember one night when the stars were particularly bright, we stayed there for so long that I eventually fell asleep, and he had to carry me back to my room! Oh, Mother she was so furious the next day because I could barely keep my eyes open! How she scolded him!” she reminisced.

Alistair’s smile faded as Bridget became somber. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin atop them and sighed.

“I don’t even know if my home is still standing. The fire lit up the sky as Duncan and I escaped. That tower may not even be standing there anymore.” She whispered.

Alistair’s heart ached as Bridget’s eyes welled up with tears. She hid her face from him and balled her fists as she sobbed.

“Damn Howe and his treachery! My father had done nothing to him except show him kindness—he considered Howe to be family, loved him like a brother and this is the fate that he received? I hate him, Alistair. I want to hurt him, to kill him…I know it won’t bring my family back, but I feel as though it will bring some solace.”

Alistair regarded Bridget sympathetically and offered her his handkerchief.

“I feel the same way about Loghain. I know ending his life won’t bring Duncan back but…it will feel good to at least have justice for his death.” He replied.

Bridget took the handkerchief and thanked her friend. She dabbed her eyes with it and Alistair looked back up into the night’s sky.

“You know…some say our loved ones become stars once they pass. I’m no philosopher, and I’m sure the Chantry will say that it isn’t true but…it’s a nice sentiment regardless. I’m sure your family is watching over you, Bridget. You’re not alone in this.”

Bridget took a deep breath to calm herself and nodded.

“No, I’m not alone. I’ve got you.” She stated.

Alistair glanced at her, and his heart warmed at the warm smile she gave him. He felt a blush creep into his cheeks and cleared his throat bashfully. The logical part of his brain explained to him that Bridget was clearly being friendly and hadn’t met anything by her statement…but Alistair would be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip just a bit at her words. Bridget offered his handkerchief back to him, but Alistair shook his head and placed his hand atop hers and closed her hand around it.

“You keep it, in case you ever need it.” He replied.

Bridget tilted her head to the side and looked down.

“Thank you, Alistair.”

He smiled at her.

“Anytime.”

Bridget regarded her companion for a moment. The light from the fire made his honey-colored eyes glow warmly. There was something about Alistair that was so inviting, she felt like she could tell him anything and was very thankful to call him her friend. Tears welled up in Bridget’s eyes again and she sniffled. She wasn’t ready to stop the tears just yet apparently. She moved closer to Alistair and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can I cry for a little while?” she asked softly.

Alistair swallowed the lump in his throat. It pained him to no end to see Bridget so distraught. He wished there was something he could do to help her, to ease her pain. He made a vow to himself that he would do anything he could to help her find Howe and deliver a slow and painful justice. But for now, all Bridget needed was a shoulder to cry on, and Alistair was more than happy to oblige.

“Of course.” He stated.

And so, they sat in companionable silence. Bridget cried softly and Alistair, too, silently mourned Duncan’s loss. He tentatively wrapped his arm around Bridget and held her close. She didn’t pull away. For a long while, that was how they stayed. Bridget cried softly and Alistair just held her close. Words weren’t needed, sometimes all you need is just someone next to you, sharing in your pain to feel better. Sometime later, Bridget took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She gave Alistair a small smile.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Alistair frowned sadly as Bridget pulled away. The shock of her withdrawal was stronger than he thought. Before he could say anything, Morrigan appeared with a glass bottle and approached Bridget.

“Your sleeping drought. I warn you, it won’t taste very good, but you will fall asleep quickly and soundlessly and your dreams will not ensnare you.” She explained.

Bridget gratefully took the bottle from Morrigan and thanked her profusely. Morrigan nodded.

“You are welcome. I have about a month’s supply of the potion so use it at your discretion. I am ready to relieve you so that you may rest so long as I do not have to keep watch with that buffoon.” She stated as she gestured toward Alistair.

Before he could retort, Leliana appeared and shook her head.

“Looks like you and I will be keeping watch together!” she exclaimed cheerfully.

Morrigan frowned.

“Your gleefulness is nauseating, I haven’t the patience to deal with your enthusiasm.”

Alistair smirked and hoped that Leliana would very much annoy Morrigan all throughout the night. He watched as Bridget took a sip of the sleeping draught. She grimaced and made a disgusted face.

“Ooof it tastes like dirt.” She stated.

Morrigan shot her a disdainful gaze.

“Pardon me for not having the capacity to make it taste like fine wine, Warden.” She snapped.

Bridget took a deep breath and decided not to engage the mage in an argument and turned to her tent. She nodded towards Alistair and smiled.

“Goodnight, Alistair…and thank you.”

Alistair blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I feel as though I didn’t really do anything, but you’re welcome, nonetheless.”

Bridget shook her head and looked over her shoulder at him.

“You were just being you…and that’s exactly what I needed.”

With that, Bridget bid the others a good night and entered her tent. Alistair stared after her a moment before turning and heading to his own tent. He smiled to himself as he crawled in and made himself as comfortable as he could against his bedroll. As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he could feel a little flutter of butterflies enter his stomach. This wasn’t a feeling he had ever had before, but it felt nice. He turned to his side and smiled as he pictured Bridget’s warm smile from earlier, and it was that image that helped him slip into a gentle dream.

The sleeping draught that Morrigan provided certainly fulfilled it’s promise. Mere minutes after ingesting the little bit that she had, Bridget’s eyes were already becoming heavy. She drew her brows together, worried that despite being able to fall asleep, nightmares would once again trap her and make her feel helpless as she relived the night of her family’s massacre. However, she found herself being cradled in a feeling of peace and warmth as her thoughts turned to Alistair. Bridget thought of how his eyes glowed in the firelight and how comforting his embrace had been, and it was that warmness that helped her drift into a serene and calm sleep where she was not plagued by nightmares of dark things.

xXx

Dawn came quickly and Bridget woke along with the rising sun. She sat up in her tent and stretched out her arms as she yawned. She rubbed the lingering sleep from her eyes and searched for her hairbrush in her pack. She found it after a moment and quickly ran it through her hair, releasing the knots and tangles that had accumulated throughout the night. Once she was ready to embrace the day, she packed up her items and emerged from her tent. The others were already beginning to pack up as well. Alistair stamped out what remained of their fire and greeted her with a well-rested smile.

“Good morning.” He stated.

Bridget returned the smile and sentiment. Once all the tents were packed and everyone was ready, the group set off, once again, along the Imperial Highway. The air was cold and wet, a fine mist clung in the air as they trudged along the muddy road. After some time, Leliana broke the silence.

“I miss Orlais. The sun always seemed to shine, and the air smelled of fresh flowers. It was not cold and wet like Ferelden. The air here just smells like wet dog, no offense, Zeus.”

Zeus snorted and whined. Bridget smiled and patted him on the head.

“I guess us native Fereldans are so used to the smell it doesn’t even faze us anymore.” She stated.

The mist eventually turned into a fine rain as the gray clouds of the sky thickened. The group ran into a small Darkspawn horde along the way and witnessed the havoc they had caused to a passing caravan. They had spared no one, not even the children. Alistair sighed sadly as he covered the bodies with the tarp from the caravan. Bridget felt the Darkspawn chip away at her bravery each time she came across them. They truly were horrible, disgusting creatures. A plague upon society. She shuddered to think of how they were made to become this way. As the party neared Redcliffe, they were attacked again not by Darkspawn, but bandits. Although they were not much of a threat and were dispatched quickly, the feeling of never being safe again slowly started to creep into Bridget’s stomach. She and Alistair were branded traitors and anywhere they went they could easily be recognized and attacked. Bridget sighed as she became pensive on this thought. She knew her journey would soon lead her to the gates of Denerim, Ferelden’s capital. Howe was bound to be there, as well as Loghain. How she and her party would gain entry to the city would be no small task indeed, however, it would be some time before they would travel there. Still, the thought lingered in her mind.

Soon enough, the party neared the gates of Redcliffe. Alistair sighed in relief and apprehension upon returning to his old home. He did not know what state he would find Arl Eamon in but hoped that whatever had happened could be fixed quickly and swiftly.

Of course, this was not the case.

As Bridget and the others entered the gates, Bridget noted an uneasy stillness in the air.

“There should have been men stationed at the gates for a village of this size.” She whispered to Alistair.

Alistair looked around apprehensively.

“Maybe they’re all on a break?” he suggested nervously.

Bridget frowned and shook her head. As the group continued to progress, they came across a young man standing on the bridge that led into the village. He brightened upon noticing Bridget and her friends, but then immediately became crestfallen once her party came into view.

“Blast it! You’re not the Arl’s knights! Where are they? They should have returned by now!” he exclaimed.

Bridget looked at the others and then turned back to the young man. He seemed to be in a great deal of distress.

“Calm down, friend. We’re here to help, if we can. What exactly is happening here?” she asked.

The man introduced himself as Thomas.  He went on to explain that no one had heard from the castle in days, nearly all the knights had gone in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and Redcliffe would fall if nothing was done.

“What do you mean, ‘fall’?” Alistair interjected.  

Thomas looked at him and shuddered.

“They come down from the castle at night and try to slaughter all of us! These creatures, they are walking corpses! Not Darkspawn but just…the dead! I don't know how, I can't explain it, but it is as if they have risen from the ground itself to fight again!” he exclaimed.

Bridget looked at her friends worriedly. Morrigan took a deep breath and sighed.

“It sounds like blood magic is at work here.” She stated cautiously.

Before Bridget could reply, Thomas grabbed her hand and knelt before her. He gazed up at her with tears in his eyes and pleaded for her help.

“Please, you must help us! You’re the first people to come by here in days! We’re being slaughtered! I…I’ve seen so many of my friends die! I can take you to Bann Teagan! He can tell you more! Please don’t abandon us, we will all die if you do not help!” he cried.

Alistair stepped forward.

“Bann Teagan is Arl Eamon’s brother, he may be able to help us reach the castle if we can help save the village.” He stated.

Leliana nodded in agreement.

“We cannot abandon these good people.” She replied.

Bridget looked to Morrigan, already knowing that the mage would be against helping the village. And she stated exactly that.

“You already know my thoughts. I see this as nothing but a waste of time and only prolonging our goal. But I defer to your judgement, Warden. Even though I do not agree to it.” She stated coolly.

Bridget turned her attention back to Thomas and squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course, we will help you. Take me to Teagan.” She stated.

Thomas released a shaky breath and kissed Bridget’s hand.

“Maker smile kindly upon you, dear lady. I shall take you to Teagan immediately!”

The others looked at each other warily but followed in suit behind Bridget as they were led through Redcliffe. Alistair looked around him. The village was not as vibrant as he remembered as a young boy. Too many sad faces stared back at them. There was a somber severity in the air. The lush green grass that he remembered as a lad even appeared less colorful now. Whatever this evil was that was plaguing the village, it had to be stopped. It was as if the village had lost all its vivacity. Hardly any villagers stood outside, there were a few men shooting arrows at targets, and another, burly man shouting out orders. Where was everyone? Upon entering the Chantry, Alistair received his answer. The villagers of Redcliffe, mostly women and children and injured men were huddled within the Chantry.

Brothers and Sisters were passing out bread and soup and tending to the wounded. Soft cries filled the air and Alistair turned to his left to see a young woman sobbing as other ladies from the village comforted her. Alistair felt a pang in his chest and took a deep breath. Eventually, Thomas led Bridget and her friends through the foyer of the Chantry and behind the altar. There, a man stood. He had his back turned to them as he was looking over documents on a desk. He sighed and ran a hand through his copper hued hair before he turned as Thomas called out his name.

"Bann Teagan, ser, I bring you some travelers, they say they want to help!”

Bridget looked up at the man named Teagan. He had a royal, yet humble air about him. Someone who came from high birth but never put on a show about it, she gathered. He had copper colored hair and stormy grey eyes. His nose was regal, and his jaw was strong. Only the very beginnings of laugh lines were gently carved into his face. Teagan had a neatly trimmed goatee and was wearing a simple shirt and breeches and looked no different than the villagers held up in the Chantry, though his scabbard was strapped to his waist and his sword hung snugly at his hip. He glanced over them quickly but raised his eyes and smiled as he saw Alistair.

“By the Maker, Alistair? Is that you?”

He walked towards him and shook his hand briskly. Alistair smiled and returned the shake in kind.

“I'm surprised you recognized me, it's been so long, and I do believe the last time you saw me I was covered in mud from the horse's stalls!”

Teagan smiled kindly.

“I never forget a face. What brings you back to Redcliffe?” he asked.

Alistair's smile faded.

“We had come to ask for Arl Eamon's help, Loghain has declared the Warden's traitors and murderers. We need his voice in the Landsmeet, but we heard that he was sick, and now talk of walking corpses, what's going on?”

Teagan sighed and led the group into the back where he had an office of sorts set up. It was easy to tell that this was the Mother's study, but now looked more like a war tent. A map of Redcliffe lay across the desk. Several red 'x's' dotted the map, most likely indicating where the villagers had lost the battle against the dead. Tegan leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. He looked at Alistair somberly.

“No one has heard from the castle in days. Eamon became dreadfully ill, and the next thing I knew, these rotting corpses descended upon us from the castle for the last two nights. We have lost so much. I do not know if my brother even lives.” He explained worriedly.

Bridget absentmindedly pulled her hood back as Teagan glanced at her and his breath was nearly carried away. Though she was soaking wet and covered in mud and blood from her travels, she carried a wild beauty about her that he couldn't help but notice.

“Beg pardon my lady but, have we met? You look so familiar.”

Bridget shook her head.

“No, but you may have known my father, Teyrn Bryce Cousland.” She replied.

Teagan acknowledged her sympathetically.

“He was a good and admirable man. You have my deepest condolences for what happened. The news, it traveled very quickly. You share his kind eyes.” He stated.

Bridget smiled at the remark. She had heard that a lot growing up. She bowed her head to him.

“Thank you. My friends and I wish to help in whatever way we can. Is there anything that we can do?” she asked.

Teagan nodded eagerly, thankful for any help he could receive.

“Yes. You could speak to the mayor, Murdock and ask him if he needs any help in preparation for tonight. I have been trying to keep everyone calm, here in the Chantry, so I don't know how our numbers look or just how much morale there is out there. He or Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights that remained behind, should be able to assist you.”

Bridget nodded.

“Very well, I'll go and speak with them right away.”

On that note, Bridget turned and led the others back out of the Chantry. Alistair sighed sadly. If Eamon died…Ferelden was lost. Only Eamon could stop Loghain from taking that throne. Then again, no one knew of Alistair's true heritage either, but Maker knows he certainly didn't want that! The guilt in his belly began to grow as Bridget found Murdock and began to discuss the plan of attack. He knew that he had to tell her eventually. But not yet not yet! He wanted to remain ‘just Alistair’ for a little while longer. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help it. It was his secret to tell and if he played his cards right, hopefully it was one he would never have to share. All these thoughts swam in Alistair’s head. He completely tuned out the conversation that Bridget had with Murdock and found himself following her and Morrigan to a nearby house on the dock. Leliana had returned to the Chantry to help with bandaging the injured villagers. Morrigan’s piercing voice broke Alistair’s train of thought as she offered her unasked opinion on the matter.

"I say these fools are already lost; we may as well be on our way elsewhere! You have those treaties, do you not? The Darkspawn are the real threat here, let this lowly lot fend for themselves so we can solve the more pressing matter at hand!"

Bridget shook her head.

“I can't do that, Morrigan. Not when these people need help. This entire village could be destroyed and if I can somehow help them prevent that from happening, then I will.” She vowed.

Morrigan crossed her arms.

“Fine, have it your way. I still think you are wasting valuable time, though.”

Bridget ignored her as they continued to the house. Alistair walked in step next to Bridget.

“Thank you for wanting to help everyone. It means a lot that you care about what happens to the families here. Even though I know we have much more pressing matters to attend to…if we can help save Redcliffe, well…I owe that much to Eamon. He stated.

Bridget smiled at him.

“I’m not going to abandon these people, Alistair. Not when they need us.”

Alistair felt another wave of admiration for his companion wash over him. Bridget cautiously approached the door to a small hovel. She looked down at the crumpled-up piece of paper that Murdock had given her with a description of a man named Dwyn’s home on it. This house looked like the one Murdock had described on the paper. She knocked on the door politely and waited for a response. Nothing happened. Bridget beat on the door again and still, nothing. She tried turning the handle, but it was locked. Bridget frowned impatiently.

"Dammit, Dwyn, if you live here, I need to speak with you!" She shouted.

Once again, nothing happened. Bridget pursed her lips together; she didn't have time to wait around. She reared her leg back and kicked the lock open. Alistair and Morrigan were both a little surprised by her sudden action. The dwarf inside did not look amused when Bridget and her friends walked in.

"Humph, some manners you have. Care to explain why you broke down my door?" he asked as two heavily armored men came in from the back room and moved to stand behind him.

Bridget crossed her arms. She was in no mood to fight anyone and had to get everything prepared before sundown.

“Are you Dwyn? Murdock needs you for tonight to help fight the dead.”

Dwyn rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Like I give a nug's ass about that! I'm heading back to Orzammar; I could care less what happens to these sad sots. And you have some nerve demanding me to do anything when you don't know me, and I don't know you!” he shouted.

His men placed their hands on the hilts of their blades, ready to draw them at any given minute. Bridget frowned.

“Look, I'm sorry, I will fix your door, but I really need your help, the whole village needs your help! What can I do to convince you of that?” she asked, exasperated.

Dwyn crossed his arms and tipped his head to the side.

“Got any gold?” he asked.

Bridget flared her nostrils out angrily.

"No." she stated, her patience was incredibly thin.

Dwyn shook his head.

“Then no can do, sorry, but unless you want to pay me in a more personal matter, then I suggest you,”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bridget grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him close. His men moved to attack, but Dwyn shook his hand at them. Bridget narrowed her eyes at the dwarf and held him inches away from her face.

“Listen and hear me well, little man. I am a hurricane and not the holiest of water nor the mightiest of prayers can save you from my wrath if you do not help these people tonight. So I'm going to let you make a choice. Either you board yourself up in this pitiful hovel like the coward you seem to be, or you prove to me that you are a brave warrior and stand up for the people of this village. Make your choice but know that if you choose wrong, I will strike you down where you stand.”

Morrigan smiled devilishly.

“Oh, how entertaining it is to see her intimidate weak-willed men. Good for her for not letting that sniveling little man walk all over her, do you not agree?”

While Alistair didn't necessarily agree with berating someone and threatening them with force to get them to change their way of thinking…he had to admit that Bridget's words seemed to work. He also only admitted to himself that when she did show that side of her, she could be a tiny bit scary. He cleared his throat.

“Indeed.” He murmured.

It did not take long for Dwyn to cave. Bridget released him and he pulled down his shirt to straighten it back in place.

“Humph, first time a woman's ever spoken to me like that. You, boy, if this one’s yours you’re doing a poor job of controlling her!” he exclaimed.

Alistair blanched and then blushed furiously. Bridget felt a blush creep into her cheeks as well.

“Me? Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I…I’m not….Bridget’s my friend!” he stammered.

Dwyn raised his eyebrows in disbelief, then let out a raucous laugh.

“Alright, alright, you earned my respect, woman. I'll fight tonight. I better see you there too; I want to see all that talk put to action!” He exclaimed.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, I'll be there, trust me.”

Dwyn nodded towards her and walked towards his door to join the other men outside. Before stepping through, he elbowed Alistair and raised his eyebrows.

“A word of advice to ya, lad. From someone who’s been around and knows his way around a difficult woman. They don’t come like her very often. Seize your moment, boy else you’ll lose her to someone else who knows how to handle her!”

Alistair blushed furiously again and sputtered out an incoherent response as Dwyn laughed heartily and grabbed a bottle of rum off the nearby shelf before he joined his men outside. Bridget frowned after him.

“What a nasty little man.” She stated.

Morrigan shared a disgusted look with Bridget and nodded.

“Indeed. I had to very much resist the urge to turn him into a toad. But he appears to have broken Alistair and rendered him speechless, so I suppose I could thank him for that.”

Bridget shook her head and laughed as she followed Morrigan out the door. Alistair said nothing as he followed the others out, he was much too embarrassed and was sure he would never be able to look Bridget in the eye ever again. After meeting up with Murdock once more, he explained that he was having a hard time getting the blacksmith, Owen, to make and repair weapons for him and the men. Bridget agreed to try and talk to him.

As it turned out, Owen was not eager to help the men fight either. He was completely drunk too, from the smell of him. After several attempts, Owen finally agreed to help the men if Bridget promised to search for his daughter, Valena in the castle. Knowing that would be a hard promise to keep because she didn't even know if his daughter was even alive, Bridget reluctantly agreed to it anyway just to get the man's spirits up and hopefully get him to put down the bottle for a bit. After she was successful with Owen, she returned to Murdock to inform him of her progress. He thanked her and reminded her to speak with Ser Perth, which Bridget then set out to do. She completed the tasks he required and returned to Murdock, just as the sun was about to set. Murdock thanked her for all her help.

“I hope this will be enough to protect us. Maker knows we can't lose any more good people tonight; we've lost enough already.” He said sadly.

Bridget smiled at him sympathetically and touched his arm kindly.

“Have faith, good man. We will see this through, and we will be victorious." She replied.

Murdock nodded his head.

“I admire your optimism. Now we just wait for the sun to fall.”

Bridget nodded and looked at the others. They stood at the ready, ready to help defend the village. Even though Morrigan clearly didn't want to, she nodded her head towards Bridget, indicating that she would. Bridget looked at Alistair and bit back a smile. His face was still red from Dwyn’s comments earlier. She couldn't help but find it a little adorable how bashful he became when Dwyn pressed him earlier. He noticed she was staring at him and caught her gaze and gave her a small but worried smile.

“Everything will be fine; we'll win this and help Arl Eamon.” She said softly.

Alistair sighed and gave her a skeptical glance.

“I hope you’re right.”

As the sun slowly began to descend, the people of Redcliffe stood at the ready. These people were very brave, and Bridget felt it an honor to be able to stand and fight with them. As night fell, she swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. Fighting Darkspawn was bad enough, but fighting the undead would be a completely new task altogether. Bridget had promised much to these people. She just hoped that she could fulfill each of those promises and save this village and get to Arl Eamon…for her sake, and all of Ferelden's.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

A Queen’s Duty

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Denerim

            A somber veil blanketed itself across Cailan’s castle in Denerim. Since hearing of his passing, all those who lived and worked within the walls of the castle entered mourning for their king. Black drapes were hung from the ceilings, replacing the vibrant reds and golds that usually decorated the halls. Queen Anora stood with her arms outstretched in front of her as her elven maid, Faelwyn tightened the strings of her corset. Anora looked at her reflection in the nearby mirror and sighed. She had not smiled since her father had told her of Cailan’s passing. Her face looked paler than usual, and her sharp, icy blue eyes had lost their spark. Anora sat at her vanity as Faelwyn began to brush and style her hair. She watched in silence as the elf twisted her platinum blonde locks this way and that into an intricate updo. Faelwyn then placed a small headdress onto her queen and flounced the black veil behind her so that it spread out over her shoulders daintily.

“Is there anything else you require of me, your Majesty?” Faelwyn asked softly.

Anora shook her head and requested that Faelwyn leave her with her thoughts. The elf obliged quickly and quietly. Anora stared hard at her reflection. She hated the color black. She had not worn it since Maric’s funeral and despised the color deeply, simply because it represented the fact that a loved one was no longer present. Anora swallowed the lump in her throat and stood. Her father had kept her in the dark with his plans, but she needed answers. What was he doing and how was he going to stop the Blight? When he called the meeting of the Bannorn a few weeks prior, he seemed more concerned with Orlais than he did of any war with the Darkspawn. Anora stuck out her chin in defiance and narrowed her eyes. She had remained quiet at that time and even defended her father to Bann Teagan, but now she was not so sure she should have been so quick to shield him. She picked up her skirts and hastily left her room. With a quick and determined stride she made her way to Cailan’s old office, where her father now sat behind the ornate oak desk. Arl Howe was present in the room, as was Cauthrien, Loghain’s right hand and commander of his men. The voices died out as Anora stood in the doorway. Howe and Cauthrien bowed.

“My dear…what brings you here? I have not seen you for some time. Are you eating? You look thinner since I saw you last.” Loghain remarked.

Anora frowned at him. She approached him not as his daughter, but as his queen.

“I demand to know how you intend to deal with the Darkspawn. They are growing in numbers and force every day and all you are doing is sitting here! We need allies, father! Ferelden cannot do this alone! Cailan’s idea to ask Empress Celene and Orlais for aid is our best,”

Before Anora could finish, Loghain cut her off by slamming his hand down on the desk.

“NO! Maric and I drove those bastards out, we will not roll out the red carpet for them now! They are our sworn enemy, and I will be damned if we ask them for aid! Ferelden will stand on its own as it always has! This is not even a true Blight! You need not concern yourself with these matters, daughter. Go and mourn that idiot husband and pray for his soul that he was smart enough to find his way to the Maker’s Palace and did not get lost along the way!”

Anora flared her nostrils and narrowed her eyes.

“Did you kill Cailan?” she asked blatantly.

Loghain shifted uncomfortably in his seat and regained his composure. He gave a very flippant response.

“Cailan’s own hubris led to his downfall, Anora. He was blinded by his own vanity and greed for glory that he did not see the true threat.”

Anora scoffed.

“Yes…he did not know that his general was a viper waiting to strike.” She hissed.

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off. Logain stared after her and then glanced to Cauthrien.

“Go after her.” He commanded.

Cauthrien nodded her head to him and hurried after Anora, closing the door to the study behind her. Cauthrien could hear Anora’s footsteps receding down the hallway. She followed the sound quickly and quietly and soon found her queen standing outside in the rose garden. Anora paced back and forth and looked as if she was trying to hold back her tears.

“Milady…” Cauthrien began sofly.

Anora whipped around to face her and wiped her eyes. Cauthrien regarded her sympathetically.

“I do not want nor need your sympathy. I weep out of frustration with my father, not because of my loss. You know more than anyone how…difficult my relationship with Cailan was. Regardless of his faults, he was a good leader, and I will not stand for my father undoing everything that Cailan stood for. So, tell me, Cauthrien. Did my father kill Cailan? So, help you if you are not truthful, I will never let you touch me again.” She said in a wavering voice.

Cauthrien took a deep, pained breath and closed her eyes. She then looked around briefly to check for any of Loghain’s men. When she realized they were alone, she pulled Anora into an embrace and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to see you, but your father barely lets me out of his sights. Of course, I’ll tell you everything, you know I will.” She stated.

Anora frowned at her lover and stared into her steely grey eyes. She gently tucked a lock of chocolate brown hair behind her ear and let her hand rest against her face.

“Did he kill him?” she asked softly.

Cauthrien nodded slowly. She explained how Loghain had instructed her to lead the men away from the battlefield once the beacon had been lit, and how awful she had felt to listen to that command.

“He may not have held the blade in his hand, but he murdered Cailan nonetheless. Without our forces, there was no way those men could have survived. The Darkspawn were far too great in number and force.”

Anora’s eyes welled up with tears once more and she shook her head as she pursed her lips together.

“So, he committed treason…but for what purpose? What does he hope to gain from the disarray he has thrown our country into?” she asked. 

A shadow flitted across Cauthrien’s features as she continued.

“He doesn’t think the Darkspawn are a real threat, does not believe that we are in a true Blight! All your father wants is to invade Orlais. He said so himself to Arl Howe and I just before you came in. He’s disillusioned and believes that Orlais is still the enemy despite the years that we have been at peace.” She explained.

Anora swallowed the lump in her throat and took a step back.

“He’s becoming unhinged. Why would he risk another war? I don’t understand it! We must do something! We can’t just sit here; Ferelden is at stake!” she exclaimed.

Cauthrien shushed her and took her hands in hers. She placed a warm kiss to the inside of Anora’s palm and squeezed her hands affectionately.

“There is some hope. Arl Howe was explaining to your father that there is a rumor that two Grey Wardens survived Ostagar. One of them is supposedly one of the Cousland children, but I know not which one.”

Dread filled Anora’s belly as an awful realization swept over her.

“Castle Cousland conveniently had a fire break out just days before the battle of Ostagar…Maker…you don’t think,”

Cauthrien nodded.

“I do believe that was more of Arl Howe’s doing than your father’s, but I do not doubt that he didn’t know what the Arl had planned. Howe’s nervous now that there’s word of a survivor. He’s afraid he has a target on his back and it’s only a matter of time before they come for him.”

Anora looked sharply at Cauthrien.

“You believe they will come here?” she asked hopefully.

Cauthrien nodded.

“Eventually, yes. I do believe they will.” She stated.

Anora squeezed Cauthrien’s hands in hers and gave her a small, but determined smile.

“Then we must seek out their help. The Cousland child can call a Landsmeet, they are of nobility and will have the right to speak before the Bannorn to have their case heard against Howe. We must keep our eyes sharp and turn our ears against the wind so that, once they arrive, we can meet with them and ask for their help. It’s the only way that we can right this wrong. I owe Cailan that much. He may not have had my heart, but I did respect him.” She explained.

Cauthrien gave her a small smile in return.

“And I? Do I still have your heart?” she asked softly as she rested her forehead against Anora’s.

Anora leaned into Cauthrien’s embrace and sighed.

“Yes, you do. Keep me informed of anything you hear. And try to get away from my father more often. I’ve missed you.”

Cauthrien blushed and chuckled in response. She tilted Anora’s chin upwards to face her and gave her a tender kiss. As their lips parted, Cauthrien bumped her nose against Anora’s and vowed,

“Once this is all over…we’ll go to Orlais and never look back. We can marry there and stay in a humble home in the square. I can get work easily, and I’m sure you’ll be invited to court. It will be a happy time.”

Anora smiled fondly at the vision, the hope for a bright future and nodded.

“A happy time indeed. Now go, I will remain in the gardens for now.”

Cauthrien did as she was asked. She kissed her love once more before she returned to the castle. She made her way back to Loghain’s office and closed the door behind her. She placed her hands behind her back and stood at the ready, guarding the door. Loghain paid no attention to her entrance as he was keenly focused on what Howe was telling him.

“So, you believe that old Bryce’s daughter has survived and that she is after you.” He stated.

Howe merely nodded in response.

“And do you believe that she will pose a threat to me? Or a threat to you? I thought your great scheme was to wipe out all of the Couslands? Getting a bit sloppy, don’t you think, Howe?”

Howe knew better than to respond to Loghain’s insult. He bowed his head.

“I have a solution…if you would so graciously accept it.”

Loghain regarded Howe with keen interest.

 “Oh? And what is your grand answer to this problem?”

Before Howe could respond, a young, elven man appeared from the shadows. His skin had been kissed by the sun and he was clad in the finest leather one could find. He twirled a dagger expertly between his fingers before sheathing it and bowing politely. His long blonde hair framed his angular and handsome face and rested just at his shoulders

“The Antivan Crows send their regards.” He purred in a thick Antivan accent.

Loghain looked unamused and turned his attention back to Howe. He chuckled darkly.

“An assassin, Howe? Really?” he asked incredulously.

Howe frowned and again chose not to respond but simply nodded in agreement. Loghain scoffed and waved his hand in the air.

“I believe you fear more for your own neck than mine, my friend, considering you are being hunted by the Cousland girl…but if you think this is truly necessary and the chinks come from your pocket and not mine, then do what you see fit.”

The elf smiled devilishly as he looked at Howe. Howe frowned and grumbled his thanks to Loghain and led the elf out of the room. Cauthrien moved out of the way and narrowed her eyes at the elven assassin who gave her a flirty wink as he walked by. She followed them out and stood guard outside of the door, playing her part until Loghain gave any further instruction. Once he was alone, Loghain stood and walked over to the nearby window that stared out into the courtyard below. He saw Anora sitting in the rose garden looking somber. Loghain took a long draw from his goblet and sighed. So much like her mother, she was. In time, he knew that she would get over herself. He would just have to deal with her moody outbursts until then.

“Cailan was a boy with a paper crown. He couldn’t run this country. Not like Maric had. I will lead Ferelden to glory…we will invade Orlais and take back what is ours. For you, my friend. I will burn every one of them and scatter their ashes on Ferelden soil and new life will grow here.”

Loghain stated as he raised his goblet to the portrait of Maric that hung over the fire. He drank to his friend of many years and sighed deeply as he set the goblet back on the desk. There was much to be done, Loghain set off to the war room with a clear head and his goal in mind.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The Walking Dead

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe

The sun descended for its slumber and the moon rose to cast ghostly shadows across the village of Redcliffe. Bridget and her friends stood by the windmill with Ser Perth and a few of his men. The rains had stopped but the air was chilly. It sent a shiver down everyone's spine, or perhaps that was the thought of fighting the dead. The aged windmill creaked loudly as it turned slowly with the wind. Bridget gripped her sword tightly and had her shield at the ready. A cold sweat began to run down the back of her neck as a foul stench filled the air. She tried her best not to gag. The Darkspawn smelled bad enough as it was, but the undead smelled much, much worse. Bridget braced herself as did everyone else as they could hear the dead descending from the castle, making all kinds of horrid sounds. Some hissed, others made a deep, gurgling sound that was all unpleasant to the ears.

As the first wave of them finally came into view, Bridget realized what true horror really was. Fighting a Darkspawn was different, they were evil down to their core, and nothing could absolve them of that. Fighting these corpses, however, was not the same. These poor, lost souls were once living, breathing people with families and duty. Yet unfortunately, because of whatever type of magic was causing them to come back, they were enraged, and had no choice but to attack. It was pitiful, really, that the villagers of Redcliffe could very well be fighting against their own ancestors, family, or friends that have been long since dead. Bridget and the others engaged the corpses in battle. For them to be rotted as much as they were, she was surprised by the amount of strength they all still possessed. The corpses hissed and laughed evilly as they fought the living.

Bridget blocked, parried, brought her sword crashing down on her enemies, and killed as many as she could. Morrigan was of great help conjuring ice orbs and shooting at the dead from a distance, giving the others enough time to get to their frozen enemies and strike them down. The dead were relentless. They kept pouring down from the castle in wave upon wave. Zeus was having a blast, jumping on the skeletons, and tearing their bones away. He probably hoped to keep one, Bridget assumed.

Leliana rained as many arrows as she could down on them, whilst Ser Perth and Alistair pushed forward. Ser Perth swung his great sword gracefully, knocking out three corpses with one swoop. Alistair drew his blade back and thrust it into one corpse fluidly, killing it on the spot. As he removed his sword, another corpse came up to flank him. Bridge ran towards it and bashed it with her shield then turned and relieved it of its head. She turned back to Alistair and smiled.

"I've got your back!" she shouted over the noise of the battle.

Alistair nodded and then quickly ran his sword through another corpse that was coming up to flank Bridget. It covered them both in it's sticky black blood. Alistair grimaced slightly then smiled at her.

"And I've got yours!" he replied.

Together with teamwork, Bridget and her friends along with Ser Perth and his knights, were able to hold the windmill. When a moment came when the creatures stopped pouring out from the castle, a villager from the Chantry came running up towards them.

"We need help at the Chantry! They're coming in from all sides! Murdock's been wounded!"

Bridget felt a surge of fear course through her veins. No. She wasn't going to let anyone die, not if she could help it. Stepping into the role of leader once again, she turned to Ser Perth.

"Stay here and defend the mill with your men, if we need any more assistance, I will send someone for you!" she yelled.

Ser Perth nodded in agreement and returned his attention to the next wave of corpses that were barreling down the hill. Bridget asked Leliana if she would stay behind with Ser Perth to help them, while she, Alistair, Morrigan, and Zeus went running down the hill towards the Chantry. As they approached, Bridget saw several men trying to help a badly injured Murdock into the Chantry for his safety. Bridget took a deep breath and whispered a quick prayer for him, hoping he would be alright.

She and the others ran to where the other men were already slaying dozens of the creatures. It was a never-ending battle, or so it seemed. The more corpses they killed, the more arrived, taking their place. Bridget was becoming fatigued, but she put it out of her mind and let her adrenaline fuel her. She would not let these people down. By the Maker, she would die for them if she had to, but she would not let another villager die at the hands of whatever was causing this madness. Bridget fell to one corpse and struggled to free herself from its grasp. It growled and gnashed its teeth at her, it's flesh only barely hanging on its face. It was a sight she soon wouldn't forget. The corpse was trying to sheath it’s dagger into her heart. Bridget gripped its wrists and grunted in a panic as she tried to stop the blade from piercing her armor. She at last managed to push the corpse’s hands away, but it was as quick as it was strong. It drove it's dagger into her shoulder, making Bridget scream in pain. Zeus came to his mistress's rescue and rammed into the corpse.

The corpse flew off Bridget and landed some feet away. Zeus howled and pounced atop the corpse and shredded it to pieces with his sharp claws and teeth. Bridget stood and continued to fight, despite the pain. It was not her sword arm that took the blow, but her shield arm. It was much more difficult lifting the heavy steel now that she was injured. She felt her blood gushing out of the wound and down her arm and suddenly became lightheaded. Alistair looked over at Bridget and noticed that her stance was beginning to falter. He rushed over to her aid and took in a breath as he saw the wound in her shoulder. He pulled grabbed her other arm and pulled her to the side quickly, out of harms way.

“What are you doing? We’ve got to get back out there!” Bridget exclaimed.

Alistair shook his head as he grabbed a poultice from his pack.

“Not with that shoulder, you’re not! You can barely lift your shield! Let me dress it quickly!” he argued.

Bridget nodded, knowing that Alistair had a point. Right now, she was more of a liability than anything if she couldn’t defend herself. Offense could only get you so far. Morrigan noticed the two Wardens and rushed over and provided her assistance with a simple healing spell, barking at Alistair to cover her and Bridget as she administered the magic. Alistair did so and took on as many corpses as he could while Morrigan helped Bridget. Once she had finished casting the spell, Bridget's shoulder was healed. Though it was still sore, the wound was closed, and she didn't have blood trickling down her arm anymore. But her blood was caked onto her arm and carried an unpleasant metallic scent; she ignored it as best as she could and got back to fighting.

At long last, after what seemed like ages, the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds. What corpses remained were stunned by the bright light and were taken down easily. Bridget grinned triumphantly as she wiped her brow with her forearm. The corpses had been defeated and the villagers won! Victorious shouts rang throughout the air as the people of Redcliffe rejoiced in their success. Bridget and her friends regrouped in the main square of the village. They helped those that needed healing into the Chantry.

Leliana went around with a pail of water and the brave men and women that had fought all night dipped their hands into the cool liquid and drank ravenously to heal their dried throats. Bridget and Alistair helped Teagan with the villagers that were not as lucky. They lifted and carried the brave soldiers who had given their lives defending their home to the edge of the lake so that they could set sail for one final voyage. Bridget bowed her head in respect as Mother Hannah read from the Chant, blessing the lost souls into the afterlife, noting that the Maker would embrace them once they reached his palace, and they would feast and be merry forever more.

A twinge of sadness gripped at Bridget’s heart as she looked up and watched as the loved ones of those that had fallen said their final goodbyes before the boats were pushed into the lake. As the archers lit their arrows and drew their bows, she closed her eyes before the flames enveloped the bodies. Her family had not received a proper burial, and she knew not when she would ever return to Highever to say a proper goodbye. As she swallowed the lump in her throat, she could only hope that their souls were not lost amidst the Fade. Bridget turned as she felt someone tap her shoulder to find Teagan standing behind her. The sunlight made his cinnamon-colored hair gleam. He smiled kindly at her and bowed graciously before her.

“Thank you, Milady. Without you, I fear there would have been many more voyages on this day.” He stated.

Bridget nodded somberly.

“You are welcome. I am sorry that I could not save everyone.” She replied.

Teagan looked down at her and sighed.

“A tragedy that most likely could not have been prevented regardless. You have proven to be a fierce warrior and a friend to Redcliffe. Should you ever need us, we will help in any way that we can.”

In one fluid motion and to Bridget’s surprise, Teagan took her hand in his and kissed it gently. Alistair stood nearby and was speaking with Leliana, but he failed to hear what she said as his attention was captured elsewhere. He watched intently as Teagan gracefully bowed and kissed Bridget’s hand. Alistair frowned as a rather unpleasant feeling fluttered in his chest as he noticed Bridget became a little flustered from Teagan’s gesture. Though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what this strange new feeling was, he certainly didn't like the fact that Teagan had touched Bridget's hand or kissed it for that matter. But Alistair supposed he was just being a gentleman. Still…he would prefer it if he did not do it again. He quickly strode over to the pair, completely forgetting the conversation with Leliana, and stood next to Bridget. Alistair straightened his back to make sure he was standing at his full height, and he squared his shoulders.

“What’s next? Are we going to try to get into the castle to see Eamon?” he asked.

Teagan nodded.

“Indeed. I will be up at the windmill when you are ready. Please feel free to take time to wash up, we have pails and rags inside the Chantry. Come and find me when you’re ready and we’ll think of a way to get into the castle together.”

With that, Teagan turned on his heel and headed towards the windmill. Alistair followed Bridget into the Chantry, still feeling that unpleasant feeling from earlier. As they entered, Bridget noticed Murdock nearby sitting up on a cot with his arm in a makeshift sling. He sported two black eyes and his face was swollen, but he had survived, nonetheless. She was pleased to see Murdock was doing better, surrounded by his wife and children.

He nodded towards Bridget in a silent thank you and returned his attention back to his wife and daughters. Morrigan stayed behind at Leliana's behest to try and offer healing magic to the others who needed it. Bridget asked a passing sister where to find the water pails and was directed to the back room. She smiled at Dwynn and nodded her head in acknowledgement towards him. He too, looked worse for wear, but he lifted a large mug of ale towards her and cackled.

“Glad you convinced me to stay! That was the best fight I’ve had in years!” he exclaimed.

Bridget laughed as the dwarf began to down his ale and sighed happily once she reached the back room. Several pails with fresh water were lined up atop a table. Bridget hurried over to one and quickly began to loosen the straps to her armor. She gave a frustrated sigh when she couldn’t reach her right strap and looked at Alistair.

“Can you help me with this one? My arm hurts too much to stretch it around to reach.”

Alistair studied Bridget for a moment before he moved towards her. He slid the leather strap through the clasp easily. Bridget raised her arms and winced as Alistair pulled the breastplate over her head. He set it down on the floor gently and turned back to Bridget. She had pulled her injured arm out of its sleeve and was inspecting her wound.

“Thank the Maker Morrigan knows healing magic. Does it look like it will leave a scar?” she asked.

In truth, Alistair could barely tell where she had been hit since there was so much dried blood. He grabbed a nearby rag from a bucket and squeezed the water out, then gently began to wipe the blood away from Bridget’s arm.

“Hmm…well, Morrigan sealed the wound, there is a bit of a scar though.” He noted as he continued to wash the blood away.

Bridget blew a few strands of hair out of her eyes and sighed.

“Probably just the first of many we’ll get on this journey, I bet.” She replied.

Alistair continued to clean her arm and complimented Bridget on how well she fought.

“Your sword master would be proud, he taught you well.”

Bridget beamed and took the rag from Alistair as he handed it to her. She then began to wipe her face to remove all the dirt and grime. As she did so, Alistair looked around for another clean rag to use, but he didn’t see any more about.

“Well, there’s none left…the sisters must have taken them for the injured villagers.” He said more to himself than to Bridget.

Bridget overheard him and called him over. Alistair walked back towards his companion as she slid her arm back into her tunic. She turned around and faced him and gently pressed the rag to his face.

“May as well help you since you helped me.” She stated.

Alistair didn’t say anything as Bridget wiped away all the dirt and dried blood from his face. His heart was racing, and he swallowed nervously. She ran the rag down his nose and over his lips gently, then traced the outline of his jaw with it and smiled.

“There, now all the ladies in town can swoon over your handsome face when you walk by.” Bridget said softly, without thinking.

Alistair laughed.

“Haha! Sure. By the way, I thought it was my job to deliver witty one liner’s, not you!” he exclaimed.

Bridget gave him a coy smile and shrugged her shoulders. She turned her back to him to wash out the rag and bit back a grin as her heart was clearly taking over her brain.

“Who said it was a joke? You know you’re handsome, Alistair.”

Alistair blinked and felt his face turn red. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Well…maybe. Still, doesn’t hurt to hear a pretty girl say it though.” He admitted.

Now it was Bridget’s turn to laugh. She giggled and looked over her shoulder at him as she shot him a questioning gaze.

“Pretty, is it?” she asked.

Alistair scoffed.

“Oh. Oh no. I’m not about to fall for that one! You know you’re pretty, beautiful, and all the other things you would probably hurt me for not saying!”

Bridget chuckled and turned back to face him. Before she could reply, Zeus bounded into the room, barking happily. Bridget noticed how filthy her hound was and gave Alistair a hopeful glance.

“Do you mind helping me wash him?”

Alistair could think of about a hundred other things he would rather do than wash a huge war hound that was covered in blood, had bits of corpse stuck to it, and stunk worse than the dead they had fought the night before. But…if it meant getting to spend a few more moments with Bridget, just the two of them…well, he could think of worse things.

“Of course.” He replied instantly.

Bridget instructed Zeus to stand still. She ripped the rag that she and Alistair had used previously in half so that Alistair could help wash. Bridget found some extra soap and began to lather her rag up. She tossed the soap to Alistair and began to rub her rag on Zeus’s side. Zeus looked at his mistress lovingly and gave her a huge kiss on the side of her face and barked happily. Bridget chuckled and shook her head, then glanced at Alistair and tipped her head to the side.

“So…you really find me pretty?” she asked innocently.

Alistair grimaced as he pulled a piece of meat from Zeus’s fur and cast his eyes at his companion. He felt as though this may be dangerous territory, so decided to answer her question with another question.

“Depends. Do you really think I’m handsome?”

Bridget noticed his deflection and gave him a sly look.

“What if I said yes?” she asked slowly.

Alistair laughed.

“Then I would obviously have to also say yes or else you would hurt me!” he exclaimed.

Bridget narrowed her eyes playfully at him.

“Alright then, smartass, hypothetically speaking I said no, then what would you say?”

The smile slowly faded from Alistair’s face as his thoughts raced in his head. The logical side of his brain had left the conversation…and it was replaced by his heart.

“I would still say yes.” He whispered.

He blushed as he looked back at Bridget but felt his chest swell with pride as she smiled warmly at him. Her eyes sparkled like freshly polished gemstones, and her reply made Alistair’s heart soar.

“Good to know, my handsome companion.” She stated with a smile.

Before Alistair could say anything, Zeus took it upon himself to remind them both he was still in the room, and he demanded that his bath be complete. He shook himself vigorously and scattered water all over Alistair and Bridget. Alistair groaned as Bridget laughed and they both continued to wash the hound. They sat in a companionable silence, both deep in thought. Bridget didn’t understand why she had flirted with Alistair, though the thought of doing it again brought a smile to her lips. He was very likable…but no. He was her friend, nothing more. He couldn’t be anything more than that. She couldn’t allow herself to get too close…what if something happened and he disappeared just like everyone else she loved? As they dried Zeus down and decided it was time to regroup with the others and meet Teagan at the Windmill, Bridget decided that she would not allow herself to speak so freely with Alistair again. A task that would prove to be much more difficult than she originally thought.

Meanwhile, as they exited the back room and rejoined Morrigan and Leliana, Alistair felt as if a swarm of butterflies had taken up home in his abdomen. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back to their conversation. Was Bridget flirting with him? Did he flirt back? Or was she simply teasing him out of sport? As she walked ahead of him, Alistair watched her and smiled. He knew he shouldn’t, but he certainly wouldn’t mind if they flirted like that again…but no, that would only complicate things! Bridget was his friend and nothing more, she couldn’t be anything more! Especially when she didn’t know…his past. No, it was better that whatever that was never happened again. Still…Alistair would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it. Leliana fell into step beside Alistair and smiled knowingly up at him. He glanced over at her and noticed her gaze and cleared his throat.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked.

The bard’s grin widened.

“I noticed how…perturbed you became earlier when Teagan and Bridget were speaking…you have feelings for her, don’t you?” she asked suspiciously.

Alistair rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No. I don’t even know what gave you that idea, but I don’t, and it didn’t bother me.” He lied.

Leliana smiled at him playfully and raised her eyebrows.

“Mmm, well, just so you know, I am very good at writing love songs, if ever you need one!” she replied in a sing song voice.

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as Leliana giggled and skipped ahead of him. She was like an annoying kid sister, he had decided. A stark contrast to Morrigan, who was displeased with the length of time they had spent in Redcliffe and certainly made her opinion known all the way up to the windmill. Bridget mostly tuned Morrigan’s complaints out and allowed them to flow freely into one ear and out of the other. As they rounded the corner, Teagan stood off in the distance staring out at Arl Eamon’s castle. Bridget and her friends approached him, eager to discuss their next course of action.

"Amazing how peaceful it looks from here. One would never suspect what we have been going through the past few nights." He turned to Bridget and the others.

"The gate to the castle is still locked, but I have another way we can get in. There is a secret passage into the castle located in the windmill known only to my family. My signet ring will unlock the latch for us to enter the castle. I…Maker's Breath!"

Bridget turned to look behind her at Teagan's remark and noticed a woman in noble attire running towards him with a lone guard following in her wake.

"Oh Teagan, Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!" she exclaimed in a thick Orlesian accent.

Teagan looked just as surprised as everyone else as the woman ran up and hugged him. He returned the hug quickly but pulled away and drew his brows together.

"Isolde! How did you make it out of the castle? Is Connor alright? What about my brother?"

Isolde shook her head, her red hair looking slightly disheveled, her finery looked tattered and torn in some places, she looked very disturbed.

"I do not have much time, Teagan. I need you to come back to the castle with me, alone. I was sent to get you and only you. You must come back with me, quickly!"

Bridget frowned and crossed her arms, wincing slightly at her shoulder.

"Now just a minute, we have some questions." She stated.

Isolde turned her attention to Bridget. She crinkled her nose at her and narrowed her eyes.

"I…who is this woman, Teagan?"

Alistair sighed.

"You remember me, don't you, Lady Isolde?"

Isolde gave Alistair the same expression she gave Bridget.

"By the Maker…what are you doing here?" she demanded.

Teagan stepped towards her.

"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde. They are responsible for saving the village. I owe them my life, as does all of Redcliffe!"

Isolde frowned.

"Be that as it may, I am sorry, but I do not have the time to exchange pleasantries with you, we must return to the castle, Teagan. Now." She stated.

Alistair shook his head.

"Please Lady Isolde, we weren't even aware anyone in the castle was alive, we have so many questions that need answers!" he exclaimed.

Isolde turned her attention back to Teagan and looked up at him.

"I know you need an explanation and answers, but I do not know what is safe to tell. There is a terrible evil within the castle walls. The dead waken and haunt the living. The mage that was responsible was captured but, the terror still continues. And I think…I think Connor is going mad. We have survived but despite my pleas he will not leave the castle, he has seen so much death…I fear it has warped him!"

Bridget drew her brows together as she continued to listen to Isolde's story. She had an inkling that they were not being told the exact truth.

"You are his uncle, Teagan! You could reason with him where I cannot! Please, I know nothing else to do!"

Before Teagan could answer, Bridget interjected.

"What about this mage? Tell me about him."

Isolde pursed her lips together and looked at Bridget.

"He is an infiltrator, one of the castle staff. We discovered that he was poisoning my husband, which is why Eamon fell ill."

Teagan's eyes widened.

"Eamon was poisoned?" he exclaimed.

Isolde nodded.

"Yes, by the mage. He claims an agent of Teryn Loghain hired him, but I do not know what to believe anymore."

Alistair grew worried.

"Is the Arl still alive?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer if it was bad news.

Isolde nodded.

"Yes, for now. But I do not know how long that may last. He is being kept alive."

Teagan furrowed his brow.

"Kept alive by what?" he asked slowly.

Isolde shrugged.

"I suppose by something the mage unleashed. Whatever it is, it is allowing Eamon, Connor, and I to live. The others were not as fortunate. It has killed so many, Teagan and turned their bodies into wakling corpses so that they may never find their peace with the Maker. Once it was done with the castle, that's when it began to strike the village! It wants us to live but I do not know why. It only let me leave the castle because I begged, because I said Connor needed help!"

Bridget shook her head; they were wasting time, and something needed to be done.

"We must decide quickly what to do." She stated.

Teagan looked back over his shoulder at the castle and sighed sadly.

"The king is dead. My brother is the only hope all of us have lest we fall into civil war. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde and try to sort out this mess."

Isolde's face brightened drastically.

"Oh, thank the Maker, Teagan! You are a good man!"

Teagan turned back to Bridget.

"Give us a moment while we confer in private, and I will meet you at the gate." He said.

Isolde nodded and hurried back to the gate with her guardsman. Teagan pulled Bridget aside. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

"Something's not right; I don't think we got the full story back there. Are you sure you want to do this? It could easily be a trap." She stated.

Teagan removed his signet ring and placed it in Bridget's palm; he closed her fingers over it and looked into her eyes. He noted briefly how striking they were, but quickly brought his thoughts back to the task at hand.

"I don't have a choice. I have to get in there and discover the true nature of what is going on. Know that you may face many more horrors within the castle, but I have no doubt in your abilities. Eamon is the priority here, if anything happens; know that everyone else in that castle, myself included, are expendable."

Bridget shook her head.

"I don't believe that I'll do my best to save all of you from this evil." She promised.

Teagan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Brave and beautiful…if only we had met at another time, my lady. Be safe, I shall see you in the castle."

With that, Teagan squeezed her hand gently and hurried to the castle gates. Bridget looked at her friends, then down at the signet ring in her hand. At hearing Teagan's words, that unpleasant feeling from earlier that Alistair had experienced flared up once again. He scowled slightly at Teagan as he rushed past him but hurried to stand next to Bridget as she entered the windmill. The secret latch was rather easy to find. Bridget bent down and brushed away the hay that covered it. She noticed a small dip in the wood and realized that must be the lock that the ring was to open. She placed the ring, stone down into the lock and turned it. After hearing a distinctive click, Bridget pulled open the latch. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Time to face some more corpses." She said unenthusiastically.

Bridget and her companions descended the steps and found themselves in the castle's dungeon. Almost as soon as they entered the dank area, they were attacked by several more corpses. Bridget and her friends made quick work of them, grimacing at the smell of their rotting flesh. They traversed through the dungeon and came upon a man in a cell. He wore mage robes and was clearly the mage that Isolde had mentioned earlier. As Bridget approached his cell, she noted the pained expression on his face. He certainly looked guilty.

"How did you get here? Are you here to help save the castle?" he asked hopefully.

Bridget narrowed her eyes at him.

"Never mind how I got here, are you the mage that poisoned Arl Eamon?" she asked.

The mage sighed sadly.

"Let me explain. My name is Jowan. Lady Isolde hired me to tutor her son, Connor in the magical arts." He stated.

Alistair raised his eyebrows.

"What? You mean Connor is a mage?" he asked.

Jowan nodded.

"Yes. She feared him being taken away by the Circle. Eamon had no idea of his son's abilities. I was to teach him in secret but…well…things went amiss. You see I…I'm a blood mage."

Morrigan looked at him.

"Truly? Well…you certainly don't look the sort. I would never have guessed." She remarked.

Bridget crossed her arms.

"But why did you poison Eamon?" she asked curiously.

Jowan sighed and explained himself. He stated that Loghain offered him freedom if he would infiltrate Redcliffe and poison Arl Eamon. Since he had already been contracted by Isolde to tutor Connor, it was the perfect opportunity. He would poison the Arl, tutor the boy, and slip out one night undetected to a great freedom from the Circle. But things did not go as planned.

"Connor made a deal with a demon in the fade to keep Eamon alive. The demon fed off Connor's magic. He's so young, but powerful, he doesn't know how to control it. He's the one that's made the dead rise, not me! I know of a way to stop him, but it's still not safe, the other corpses need to be taken care of first. I can help you; please I want to fix what I've done wrong here. I really mean that. I was blinded by promise of freedom, if you had lived your life locked away in a tower never being able to see or step outside, you would feel the same way! Please let me right my wrong and fix what I have done?" Jowan pleaded.

Bridget thought a moment. While Jowan did seem eager to help, she wasn't about to put all her trust into this man. She decided that he would stay in his cell for now, and once they cleared the way, someone would come back to get him. Jowan agreed to wait patiently in his cell, but urged Bridget and her friends to hurry, that the demon was growing stronger by the minute. Bridget took his advice and quickly led her friends through the castle. Along the way they ran not only into the corpses, but actual abominations as well. Morrigan was quite useful in dispelling of them as quickly as she could, though they were quite a sight to behold. Bridget had never in her life imagined she would come face to face with a creature like that.

They were large, detesting, foreboding and dangerous. The skin of their faces had bubbled and stretched, making them quite difficult to look at. Once they were defeated, Bridget pressed onward, slaying more enemies and eventually running into Owen's daughter, Valena. She explained to her that she had cleared most of the rooms and the passage was safe. Valena thanked her, stated that she knew the halls of the castle like the back of her hand, and was off immediately. Eventually, Bridget and the others made it to the courtyard of the castle. They dispelled of more enemies and opened the gate for Ser Perth and his men and together, they entered the main hall of the castle where things were quite…disquiet.

Isolde stood near a great fireplace; her shoulders slumped over. She looked completely exasperated, her hair now out of the bun that it was in earlier and falling around her face in a matted mess. Teagan was doing front flips and back flips, quite expertly, and the boy, who Bridget assumed was Connor, was clapping his hands and laughing maniacally. He stopped abruptly, however, when Bridget and her friends came into view. He raised an eyebrow at them and ordered Teagan to sit down next to him.

"Who approaches, Mother? I cannot see them." He stated.

Isolde looked fearfully at her son. Even Bridget could tell that the demon was talking through him, that voice was much too deep to be that of a child's.

"She is a woman, Connor. Just as I am." Isolde said quietly.

Connor looked at Bridget and contemplated her.

"Ah yes, I see her now. Younger and far prettier than you, Mother! I'm surprised you don't have her killed in a fit of jealous rage!" he exclaimed.

Isolde looked at Bridget and held a pleading look in her eyes. She was completely helpless and could do nothing against her son. It was still him on the outside, but not on the inside. Connor shook his head and held it.

"Ah ow! Mother? Mother it hurts! Get it out, get it out!" he screamed.

Isolde rushed to her son's side and knelt next to him.

"Connor? Oh, thank the Maker you have returned to me!"

As quickly as Connor had regained control of himself, the demon came back tenfold. He reared back and struck Isolde hard against her face, causing her to fall back and down the few steps. She shrieked in surprise and held the side of her face that was struck.

"Back away, fool woman! I will converse with this intruder myself. Who are you and just why are you here?" he demanded to Bridget.

She stepped forward, unafraid of the demon within him.

"I'm here to undo what you've done. I killed your minions in the village as well as those throughout the dungeon and other areas of this castle. I am trying to save Arl Eamon."

Connor tipped his head to the side.

"Father is fine, he lays asleep for as long as I say he can sleep, but that can be so easily changed!"

Bridget drew her sword.

"You do anything to the Arl and see what happens." She threatened.

"No! You cannot harm him, he's still my son!" Isolde sobbed.

Bridget gripped the hilt of her blade and narrowed her eyes at the boy. Isolde was right; she could not engage him in combat for she would harm Connor's body if she did.

"I will stop you, whatever it takes! Now let me see your father!" she shouted.

Connor crossed his arms.

"You talk big for someone who is in no position to do anything. You can't get me to do anything! Nobody can tell me what to do anymore! I am more powerful than all of you!"

He snapped his fingers and Teagan and the other guards that were in the room moved to attack Bridget and the others. This was a difficult battle as they couldn't actually kill their foes, so they had to resort to just knocking them out. Bridget winced as she bashed Teagan with her shield and watched him fall back and hit the stone floor, hard. During the skirmish, Connor had run off. Once he had left the room and the guards were incapacitated, they regained their minds. Bridget offered a hand to help Teagan stand.

"Ugh…I will certainly be feeling that in the morning. Maker, this is such a mess. Isolde, I cannot believe that you kept all of this from Eamon. I understand you want to keep Connor here, but he needs to go to the Circle, Isolde. He cannot contain this magic alone; he needs to be with those who can teach him what to do."

Isolde stuck her chin out.

"No, he is my son I will not see him taken by…by magic. There must be something we can do to save him!" she exclaimed desperately.

Bridget looked at Teagan.

"Jowan is still in his cell, he told me he wants to help, to right his wrong."

Teagan nodded.

"Then I will go and fetch him, and we will see what can be done."

Teagan and a few men left for the dungeons and returned shortly with Jowan. He sighed sadly as he looked around the room and at the fallen and confused guardsmen. He approached Bridget and Isolde and explained their options.

"We can get the demon out of Connor by entering the Fade. It is not an easy spell to accomplish but it can be done."

Isolde's eyes grew wide, and she sighed with relief.

"Oh, thank goodness, will he be safe?" she asked hopefully.

Jowan frowned.

"I have not said all. Usually, this type of ritual requires several mages as well as a large amount of Lyrium to be accomplished. However, since I am a blood mage, I wouldn't need that. I can enable another mage to go through the Fade, but I would be using blood instead of Lyrium. And a ritual such as this requires a lot of life energy…all of it, in fact."

Everyone's spirit in the room fell. It appeared no matter what, someone would have to die for Connor to be saved. Isolde's lip trembled as her eyes brimmed with tears. She looked at Jowan and took a deep breath.

"Then let it be me. I will sacrifice myself for my son."

Teagan looked at her in surprise.

"Isolde, are you mad? Eamon would never allow this!" he exclaimed.

Isolde looked at Teagan as her tears began to fall.

"Perhaps you would understand if you were a parent, Teagan, but this is something that I must do. It is my fault that all of this happened because I selfishly wanted to keep my son instead of sending him to the Circle where he belonged. I die so that Connor can return to a normal life, or he dies or becomes a twisted, dark version of himself. To me, the choice is perfectly clear here."

Alistair scoffed.

"Blood magic…that will not solve anything! Two wrongs do not make a right!" he grumbled.

Bridget drew her brows together worriedly and turned to Jowan.

"Is there no other way?" she asked softly.

Jowan contemplated his response.

"The only other option is to go to the Circle and ask the mages for help. First Enchanter Irving is not unreasonable; he will help Connor if he can. I do not know how long the demon will remain docile though."

Alistair placed his hand on Bridget's shoulder.

"One of the treaties is also for the Circle; we could garner the help of the mages and see if they would be willing to help us here in return." He stated.

Bridget nodded and made her decision. She took Isolde's hand in hers and squeezed it kindly.

"No one is going to die here today. We will go to the Circle and seek the help of the mages. We will save Connor; we'll save you both. When Eamon wakes up, he will have both his wife and his son to greet him." Bridget promised.

Isolde shook with her sobs and hugged Bridget.

"Thank you so much. I know you risk a lot by doing this and it would be so much easier to…well…thank you."

With the next step of their journey laid before them, Teagan ushered Bridget and her friends to the stables of the castle. He spared them two horses so that they could get to the Circle Tower that much faster. Bridget returned Teagan’s signet ring to him. As Alistair saddled and readied the horses, Teagan pulled Bridget aside.

“I know that you risk much by doing this, but Eamon will be all the more grateful to you when he wakes up…if he wakes up.” Teagan whispered.

Bridget griped his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Have faith, Teagan. We will be back as quickly as we can. How far is the Circle from here?”

Teagan thought a moment before he replied.

“On horseback no more than a few hours. These are good, strong horses. The one that you and Alistair will ride is my own mare, Pandora. She’s fast and smart. She’ll get you there safely.” Teagan stated as he walked towards his horse. She was a gorgeous white color with silver hair. He ran his hand down the front of her face and petted her. Bridget approached cautiously and let the lumbering animal get a whiff of her scent. Pandora neighed in friendly manner and graciously accepted the apple that Bridget offered.

“We’ll take good care of her.” Bridget stated.

Teagan smiled warmly at her.

“Of that, I have no doubt. The other mare is Eamon’s. His name is Pyoris. A bit of a hot-headed fellow, he likes to show off and try to upstage Pandora, as they are brother and sister, but he has a good heart nonetheless.”

Bridget looked over at Pyoris who looked to be having a staring contest with Morrigan. She crossed her arms at the huge stallion, and he blew hot air out of his snout. Morrigan turned her head to Bridget.

“We respect each other. I want this horse for our journey.” She stated.

Bridget nodded as she had taken a liking to Pandora anyway. Alistair stood nearby securing their packs to the saddle. He looked uneasy. Bridget approached him.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Alistair looked at her warily.

“I’m not a very good horseman.” He admitted.

Bridget waved her hand in the air.

“Don’t worry about that. You can ride with me. Just hold onto my waist, I tend to go fast. I love the feel of the wind in my hair. My father and I used to ride our mounts by the seaside during the warmer months. And…we may or may not have had races to see who could make it back to the castle first.”

Alistair didn’t hear anything after Bridget mentioned holding onto her waist. Teagan bid them farewell and wished them luck on their journey. Bridget gripped the saddle and mounted Pandora easily. Alistair clamored up behind her and wrapped his arms carefully around Bridget’s waist. Morrigan and Leliana mounted Pyoris after they secured their own packs. Everyone agreed to travel for a couple of hours and, since they were rapidly losing daylight, they would stop and make camp to rest up from all the fighting they had done.

Bridget clicked her tongue and tugged gently on Pandora’s reigns. The horse began to walk slowly and then increased her pace to a steady trot. Once they were out of the village gates and back on the Imperial Highway, Bridget looked over her shoulder at Alistair.

“Hold on tight!” she exclaimed.

Alistair tightened his grip around Bridget’s waist as she thrashed Pandora’s reigns. The horse whinnied in compliance and broke out into a gallop. Bridget grinned as the cool wind whipped her cheeks and danced with her curls. Alistair couldn’t help but smile himself. He wasn’t much for horses but, he certainly wasn’t going to complain in this moment.

They continued to travel a fair distance until Bridget decided to set up camp. As they all pitched their tents, Bridget took a deep breath. She hoped with all her might that the mages could help them save Connor, she couldn't bear the thought of him falling victim to the demon. Perhaps it was because she felt useless when her family died, but something was compelling Bridget to save all those that she could. She wasn't sure what it was, but helping these people helped her, in a way. She found retribution in saving the lives of strangers that she barely knew, and it helped her feel as if she had a purpose, as if perhaps everything that had happened to her, as terrible as it had been, had a purpose.

Bridget had in no way made peace with the fact that she was the last member of her family, but helping these people certainly helped her cope with it. She just prayed that the mages were ready and able to give their aid for the Blight as well as to help Connor. But of course, things were rarely ever easy…and Bridget would soon find out that the mages in the Tower would need her help as well.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

The Circle of Magi

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Camp

The Circle Tower loomed ominously in the distance like a tall, foreboding creature. Bridget guessed that they were perhaps only an hour away. The fatigue from the battle at Redcliffe had caught up with everyone, however, and they were forced to stop and make camp, if only to sleep for a few hours. Bridget didn’t want to delay, as she feared what would happen to Connor if they tallied too long. Her sore and exhausted body spoke otherwise, though and she sighed tiredly as she sat in front of the roaring campfire, bundled in her cloak. Leliana busied herself by making a quick stew for everyone to eat.

Pandora and Pyoris grazed in the lush grass nearby as Zeus happily busied himself playing with a bone he kept from Redcliffe. Morrigan pulled out a tome and sat next to Leliana and began reading quietly. Alistair offered to put up everyone’s tent and did so quickly. He joined the others at the campfire and graciously took a bowl of stew from Leliana. He began to eat eagerly and glanced over at Bridget. She had barely touched her stew and he noticed that she stared into the fire, lost in thought. Alistair swallowed the soup in his mouth and looked at Bridget worriedly.

“Are you alright? You seem rather pensive.”

Bridget pulled herself out of her thoughts and glanced up at Alistair. She frowned and shook her head as she turned her attention back to the fire. Bridget felt her eyes well up with tears and she blinked furiously as she willed them to go away.

“Do you believe in the Maker, Alistair?” she asked softly.

Alistair took a deep breath, unsure of how to answer. Bridget continued.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Mother Hannah said during the funeral for those that didn’t make it back in Redcliffe. I couldn’t give my family a proper burial…and now I’m worried for their souls. Have I damned them to roam the Fade for eternity, never to find peace?” she asked as tears escaped her and fell down her cheeks.

Before Alistair could answer, Morrigan decided to give her opinion on the matter. She looked up from her tome and made a disgusted noise.

“I don’t believe in such nonsense. Do you find it plausible that there is a large man who lives above the clouds and only allows those he deems ‘worthy’ to join him in an afterlife? These are fear tactics created by the Chantry to scare weak minded fools into submission, if you ask me.” She seethed.

Leliana looked absolutely horrified.

“Morrigan! How could you say that? The Maker is good and loving, without him, none of us would exist!” she exclaimed.

Morrigan turned sharply to face the bard and scoffed.

“Good and loving you say? So, you expect me to believe in something that decrees that people like me should not exist? That magic and being born with magic is an abomination, a stain on society? No. I would rather walk into an empty abyss at the end of my life where nothing awaits me than pretend to believe in something that says my very existence is evil.”

Alistair took a sip from his wineskin and inclined his head towards Leliana.

“She does have a point, you know. Not that I necessarily agree…I don’t really know what to believe. But, being told from birth that your life is forfeit and you’re whisked away to a tower for the rest of your life for something completely out of your control…that doesn’t sound like something an all good, all loving deity would do. He loves others and embraces them with open arms but shuns mages, even though so many people benefit from magic? Isn’t that like looking through a jaded glass?”

Morrigan turned to Alistair and looked shocked, then turned her attention back to Leliana.

“I cannot believe the oaf agrees with me. However, you see my point. Instead of worrying about this nonsense, Bridget, you need to shift your focus back to the Blight. There are much worse things than death and worrying about the souls of those you could not save.”

“Morrigan!” Alistair and Leliana exclaimed together.

The mage simply shrugged her shoulders and looked right at Bridget. She stared into her eyes, hard.

“I am simply being honest! Take this worry and turn it into anger to fuel your drive to hunt down the man that slaughtered your family and end the Blight. Wasting time worrying about it now will solve nothing.”

Bridget remained quiet but drew her knees up to her chest and looked away. Alistair and Leliana gave Morrigan a hard look as the mage stalked away to her own tent. Leliana cleaned up their cutlery from their meal and walked towards the nearby river to clean them leaving Alistair and Bridget alone. Alistair moved to sit next to his companion and shook his head.

“Don’t listen to Morrigan. What does she know anyway, right?”

Bridget turned to face him, the ghost of tears in her eyes. He could not bear to see her sad.

“Do you really not believe? Am I just being stupid for worrying about their souls?”

Alistair sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure what to believe. The Chantry taught me many things while I was there but being a Warden and seeing what I have of the world has also taught me a lot. Maybe there is a higher power, a purpose for all of this…and maybe there isn’t. But what I do know is that I believe in you, Bridget. You’re strong willed and smart, you’ll lead us through this. And, when this is all over, we’ll go back to Highever, just the two of us,”

Zeus interrupted Alistair with a loud whine. Alistair chuckled and scratched the hound’s ears.

“Sorry, the three of us and we’ll say our goodbyes to your family, and to Duncan just as we said we would.”

Bridget gave Alistair a small, hopeful smile.

“You promise?” she asked softly.

Alistair held up his hand and held her gaze with his.

“I swear it.” He replied firmly.

Bridget broke their eye contact and turned her attention back to the fire. She grabbed a stick and poked at the embers as it began to fade slightly. Morrigan had retired to her tent for a brief nap, as did Leliana. Alistair wondered briefly if the bard did this on purpose so he would have more time alone with his fellow Warden, not that he was complaining. A cold wind danced through the air and caused both to shiver and instinctively move closer to each other for warmth. Their thighs were pressed against each other, and Alistair felt his heart skip a beat. Bridget looked up at Alistair and gave him a warm smile. He noted how long her eyelashes were and how they fanned her face every time she blinked. Her face was slightly pink, but whether that was from the cold or from a blush, Alistair wasn’t sure. Alistair chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment in thought, unsure if he should say what was on his mind. Before he could say anything, Bridget broke the silence.

“You know…I’m glad that it was you…and not some other Grey Warden that was at Ostagar that day.” Bridget said softly.

Alistair tried not to belie how happy her sentence just made him, but he could already feel his mouth spread into a goofy grin.

“What a coincidence, I was about to say the same thing.” He replied.

Another strong wind blew through the air. Its force pushed Bridget’s hood off her head and caught her golden hair for a dance. Bridget shivered and hugged herself. Her errant, loose curls framed her face. Dare he? Dare he? Alistair’s hand moved of its own accord; his mind already clearly made up. He gently took a loose tendril of hair that rested on Bridget’s cheek and pushed it behind her ear softly. He let his fingertips linger gently against the side of her face and savored every second of the smoothness of her skin. They both looked into each other’s eyes, warm honey and icy blue and Alistair noticed the pinkness of Bridget’s cheeks turned ever so slightly darker. So, she was blushing. To his surprise, Bridget placed her hand over his and leaned her face into his hand. She closed her eyes and sighed. His palm was warm and felt nice against her cool face. Alistair gently brushed his thumb back and forth atop Bridget’s cheekbone. He inched just a little closer, even though his mind was sounding off all the alarms not to, he couldn’t help himself. Bridget didn’t pull away, despite knowing that she should. Closer and closer they inched.

SNAP.

Almost immediately Bridget and Alistair pulled apart and had their blades at the ready. The air was still, and it was quiet. Pandora and Pyoris neighed anxiously. Bridget narrowed her eyes and looked around. She and Alistair stood back-to-back and circled the camp slowly, analyzing every detail. They sensed no Darkspawn…but what other evils lurked in the shadows?

xXx

Hidden amongst the trees and bushes, a young assassin in training hid with his elven companion. The elf rested his back against a nearby tree languidly and crossed his arms. Mirek, the trainee, grimaced as he looked at the twig, he had snapped only moments ago and groaned softly. He knew he had messed up, but he was still brazen and sat with his dagger at the ready, poised to strike at a moment’s notice.

“Not now.” The elf warned.

Mirek looked at his teacher in exasperation.

“Why not? The other two are asleep, we can ambush them!” he hissed.

The elf sighed and inspected his own dagger carefully.

“Study your surroundings. The horses, my friend, will startle further if we were to ambush now. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want to be trampled by that large stallion.” He replied in a thick, Antivan accent.

The man groaned impatiently and turned his attention back to their targets to witness them waking their companions and packing up their things.

“Dammit! Now we’ve missed our chance!”

The golden-haired elf positioned himself expertly behind the young man and bent down close to his ear.

“It never was your chance…you must wait for the opportune moment, my friend.” He purred.

Before his companion could respond, the elf slit his throat expertly and gently laid him down. He leaned over him and tilted his head to the side as he watched the life slowly drift away from his eyes. Mirek grabbed at his throat and gurgled as he choked on his own blood.

“Better luck in your next life, Mirek. You’re not suited for an assassin’s work. What did I always tell you? Never let anyone get behind you!” The elven rogue chastised as he swiped Mirek’s coin pouch from his waist. He gave it a little shake and smiled as he heard the distinctive jingle of coins held within.

“Never try to cheat the hand that feeds you, friend. Remember that next time before you try to steal from your teacher.”

Mirek died swiftly and the elven assassin cleaned his dagger deftly as he watched the Wardens begin to leave their campsite. He smiled devilishly as he sheathed his dagger.

“Hmm…yes…the opportune moment. Soon, Wardens. Soon.” He vowed before he slipped back into the blanket of the night.

xXx

It did not take long for Bridget and her friends to pack up their things and mount their horses once again. They were being watched that much was certain. The hairs on the back of Bridget’s neck were still raised and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being followed. As the Circle Tower came closer into view, Bridget sighed in relief knowing that they would soon be safe within it’s walls and away from whatever danger lurked in the shadows. As the companions rode up to the docks of Lake Calenhad, a lone templar stood guard. Alistair dismounted Pandora and placed his hands at Bridget’s waist to help her slide off the large animal. She thanked him, but turned away briskly, and Alistair cursed inside his head. Clearly, the moment between them had passed and it likely wasn’t going to come back any time soon. No doubt the clarity had settled in Bridget’s mind, and she realized that they both nearly made a grave mistake earlier. Morrigan frowned as she stared up at the Tower and turned to face Bridget and Alistair.

“I will sit this one out. I do not think it is wise for me to step foot in the Circle Tower when I am an apostate. There is a tavern just over there with a stable. I will water and feed the horses while you two go in and speak with the mages. I’m sure your task will not take very long as you are only here to remind them of their vow in your treaties and to garner their help for the demon child.”

Before anyone could respond, Morrigan clicked her tongue and grabbed the reigns of both horses and walked them towards the stables. Leliana stared after her and then turned back to Bridget and Alistair.

“I’ll stay behind as well, there may be patrons inside the tavern that may want to hear a song! I may be able to earn some coin, we will need to buy more food soon. Good luck in there!”

With that, Leliana trailed after Morrigan leaving Bridget, Alistair, and Zeus alone. Bridget turned her attention to the young templar at the docks and strode towards him. He looked incredibly bored until he noticed them come into view. The young man stood straight and squared his shoulders. Bridget approached him and smiled friendly.

“Greetings, I need to get into the Tower. It’s very important that I speak with the First Enchanter.” She stated.

The young templar, a boy of probably no more than eighteen shook his head and waved his hand in the air, dismissing them.

“Sorry! The Circle Tower is off limits for now. The Knight Commander has instructed me to turn all away who try to enter! I suggest you be on your way. Thank you!” he stated.

Bridget looked at Alistair and narrowed her eyes. She turned her attention back to the young Templar and questioned him further.

“Why can’t we get into the Tower?” she inquired.

The templar shook his head.

“Can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. Strict Templar business. Have a good day.” He replied, trying to end the conversation.

Bridget was not one to give up so easily. She released a frustrated sigh and slung her pack off her shoulders. She removed the Grey Warden treaties and thrusted them at the young Templar impatiently.

“We’re Grey Wardens that have come to call upon the mages to fulfill their promise and help us end the Blight. We must speak to the First Enchanter; this is a matter of life and death!” she exclaimed.

The young man glanced over the documents before he handed them back to Bridget and smirked.

“Oh yes, I have some documents too. They say I’m the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?” he snarked.

Bridget frowned and grabbed the Templar and pulled him close to her face. The fact that he looked amused further stoked her anger.

“Listen. I haven’t the time for your smartass remarks. I need to speak to the First Enchanter immediately. Now you either let me board this boat and cross the lake to do so or you will end up in the lake. Your choice.” She threatened.

Alistair tried to hide his smile, already knowing where this was going to go. The young man looked at Bridget skeptically and rolled his eyes.

“You ‘aven’t got the stones.” He said dismissively.

Bridget clicked her tongue.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, friend. See if I don’t.” she stated calmly before she shoved her full weight forward and pushed the templar right into Lake Calenhad. Stunned, the young man sputtered and shook his head as he swam in the water.

“Maker above it’s freezing!” he jabbered.

Alistair gave a hearty chuckle as he and Bridget walked across the docks. They made quick work of the rope tied to the small boat and were soon rowing their way across Lake Calenhad. Alistair took the oars and rowed in languid motions. He could tell Bridget was lost in thought and considered against bringing up the moment they had shared earlier. He still felt bad that she didn’t know the whole truth about his past, either. But when would there ever be a good time to tell her? Alistair looked at Bridget and couldn’t help but let his eyes linger. The moonlight bounced off her hair and cast her in an ethereal glow. Against his better judgement, Alistair cleared his throat.

“Bridget…about earlier…I,” he began.

Bridget glanced at him briefly and then looked away, embarrassed.

“Let’s…just focus on the task at hand.” She stated coolly.

Alistair couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He frowned slightly and nodded.

“Yes…you’re right. I…I just want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention, I,”

Bridget glanced back at her companion and her heart softened at the anguished look on his face.

“You…didn’t make me uncomfortable.” She replied softly.

Alistair looked back at Bridget and felt his entire chest warm at the subtle blush that colored her cheeks. She broke their eye contact and looked away.

“Let’s revisit this later.” She stated.

Later. So, there was some hope to be had. Alistair nodded and said nothing more as he returned his attention to rowing the oars to push them further across the lake. Alistair looked at Zeus as the dog looked as if he was contemplating him. The hound blew hot air out of his snout right into Alistair’s face then barked happily and gave him a huge lick.

“Eugh…thanks, Zeus.” Alistair grimaced.

Bridget chuckled softly. She did not know what this budding feeling was that she had whenever she was near Alistair…and she wasn’t sure if it was smart to act on it or better to ignore it completely. For now, Bridget settled it into the back of her mind, and would address it later, though she couldn’t help but smile to herself every time she glanced at her companion. She shook her head and turned her attention to the Tower. As they came closer and closer, Bridget felt a sense of dread enter her stomach. What if they couldn’t help? What if they refused and deemed Connor a lost cause? She tried to comfort herself with the fact that Jowan had mentioned that the First Enchanter was not unreasonable…but as she and Alistair docked the boat and made their way to the Tower entrance, Bridget couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

She looked around and thought it odd that no men were stationed outside the tall, lumbering doors. Bridget shared a withered glance with Alistair, who instinctively put his hand on the hilt of his blade. Bridget did the same and slowly pushed the large door open. She and Alistair stepped inside the Tower cautiously. It was eerily quiet, and again, there were no Templars guarding the hall. Only a few torches on the wall were lit, and they cast large, ghostly shadows around the hall.  Bridget took in her surroundings and frowned at the large tapestries that hung on the walls. They depicted scenes from the Chant of mages being persecuted and coerced into submission, being brought in chains to their new ‘home’…though Bridget guessed it was more of a prison than anything else. As she and Alistair deftly walked along the empty, dusty hallways with Zeus at their sides, the sense of disquiet grew. Something was out of joint. Bridget and Alistair rounded the corner and entered the main hall of the Tower, they saw a frenzied scene before them.

Templars were running about in every direction, running to treat others who had been wounded or who were in hysterics. Two particularly burly Templars had lowered the large, wooden lock onto a huge, ornate door that led into the next chamber and placed their backs against it, grimacing as they pushed with all their weight to keep whatever was on the other side contained. Bridget cast a worried glance to Alistair and scanned the crowd to see if she could find who might be in charge. She spotted an older gentleman barking out orders to the others and carefully approached him. He looked calm, but as Bridget met his stormy grey eyes, she noticed that they belied the worry he felt. The older Templar gave her a confused, yet wary glance.

“Dammit…I knew I shouldn’t have posted Carroll at the docks. I am Knight Commander Greagoir and with my authority, milady, I must ask you to leave, we are dealing with a crisis now and the Circle Tower is off limits to all.” He explained gruffly.

Bridget displayed the Grey Warden treaties to the Knight Commander but, once again, was met with skepticism and disdain. Greagoir pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“I grow weary of the Wardens incessant need of aid, though it is your right to ask for it, I suppose. As I have already stated, we are in no position to help you. Please, leave of your own accord or I will have my men escort you out!” he shouted.

His anger only fueled Bridget’s that much further.

“I am here on behalf of Arl Eamon of Redcliffe! His son has been possessed by a demon and he is terrorizing the village by rising the dead! We’ve just come back from there, we need to speak to the First Enchanter and ask for his help, he’s our only chance!” she pleaded.

Greagoir regarded Bridget for a moment and then frowned deeply.

“Look around you. Can you not see what has happened? The mages are indisposed. Several of them have giving themselves to demons in the Fade! What you see here of my men is all that is left. The others are trapped beyond that wall, but I can’t save them. They are already taken either by madness or by Death himself. I have no choice but to invoke the Right of Annulment.” Greagoir explained sadly.

Alistair shifted his weight uncomfortably and Bridget noticed the look of shock that crossed his face. She shook her head.

“What is that?” she inquired. 

“It means that we must purge this tower of every mage. Regardless of age or magical capability. They all must die so the demons can be snuffed out.”

Bridget looked horrified.

“You can’t do that! Aren’t there children in there?” she asked frantically.

Greagoir shrugged.

“What would you have me do? I have already lost too many men! My hands are tied, child! Unless you are willing to go in there and try to fix whatever it is that’s happened…”

Bridget narrowed her eyes and nodded.

“Is that what it will take for you to help me save Connor and lend aid against the Blight?” she asked.

Greagoir crossed his arms and studied the young girl before him. She had courage and fire behind those piercing blue eyes. However, he looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Are you mad? You can’t seriously consider risking your life for these abominations!” he exclaimed.

Bridget took a deep breath and stepped forward. She stared up into Greagoir’s tired face and stuck her chin out in defiance.

“That is what it means to be a Grey Warden, Knight Commander. I will gladly risk my life even if it means saving only one other. That is my oath. That is my duty. Will you stand in the way of that?” she asked.

Greagoir sighed in defeat. He couldn’t argue with someone who believed so much in their cause.

“Very well. Bring me First Enchanter Irving. I will not believe that the mages have regained their minds unless he tells me so himself.” He stated firmly.

Bridget held out her hand.

“Our bargain then? I go in and bring you the First Enchanter and you’ll help me in Redcliffe and the Blight when you are called upon?”

Greagoir nodded and gripped her forearm, making a pact.

“Indeed. Geoffrey, Thomas, open the chamber door!” he ordered.

Bridget and Alistair moved to stand in front of the large doors. The two templars that had been holding their backs against the door removed themselves and lifted the lock. They all but shoved Bridget, Alistair, and Zeus into the dank, dark corridor beyond before they quickly shut the door and locked it once again behind them. Bridget and Alistair shared a withered glance before they drew their blades. The hallway they entered was dark and the stench was enough to make one gag. Bridget sighed wearily and gripped the hilt of her sword. She felt as if she were moving into uncharted territory, knowing as little as she did about magic and mages in general, she was very wary of what was to come.

But she couldn’t let her courage falter, everyone at Redcliffe…all of Ferelden was counting on her. She glanced up at Alistair and was thankful that he was by her side. She could not imagine facing the unknown with anyone else....  She shook her head and focused on the task at hand. As they navigated the dark halls together, their senses heightened and on high alert, Bridget swallowed her nerves and braced herself for what was to come. Little did she know that she would face one of her hardest trials yet…within the Tower and within the Fade itself.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Enter the Fade

Kingsway, 9:30 Dragon

Circle Tower

With great trepidation, Bridget and Alistair began to traverse through the apprentice quarters of the tower. They moved between rooms, stepping over the mangled corpses of mages old and young. Tears came to Bridget’s eyes as she noticed the horror-stricken look that was forever frozen onto their pallid faces. The apprentice quarters were cramped with bunkbeds, trunks, tomes, books, and scrolls scattered about the rooms. The entire area was in complete disarray. Bridget couldn’t fathom what happened to these people. As she and Alistair continued down the dark, dusty corridors, she would soon get her answer. A lone Templar stood amongst a pile of dead mages. His sword and armor were dripped in blood, and he had a glazed look in his eyes. Bridget gripped her sword and confronted the Templar.

“You, there! Are you responsible for this? What’s happened here?” she demanded.

Bridget noticed a shadow flit in the corer of her eye. She turned sharply to see a…well, she wasn’t sure what it was. It was not a woman, though the creature had the body of one. She sported horns that grew out of the top of her head and deep, violet eyes. Her skin was a mixture of bluish purple, very similar to the ungodly color of flesh after it has begun to rot. The creature opened her mouth to reveal sharp fangs as she hissed at Bridget and Alistair.

“Desire Demon.” Alistair mumbled under his breath.

Bridget looked from him and then back to the demon. She stood behind the templar and waved her hand over his eyes.

“You will not take him from me!” she screeched.

The demon turned to the dazed templar and threw herself at him and began to cry hysterically.

“More intruders, my love! They’ve come to hurt the children! Don’t let them kill our babies!” she shouted.

The young templar, clearly under a spell from the demon, raised his sword and vowed to protect her and their ‘children’. However, he was not able to fulfill his promise. Bridget made quick work of him and turned her attention to the demon. She narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t know what you are or why you are doing this, but you will be stopped.” She vowed.

The desire demon threw her head back and laughed and placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t stand a chance, my dear. Do you know how many of us are running amok in this tower? Do you know how easy it is to fool and enchant these templars? Those who take the vow of chastity are so easily persuaded when they see a pretty face. Wouldn’t you agree, love?”

In an instant the demon flew across the room and knocked Bridget to the floor. She made a beeline for Alistair who threw his shield up to stop her, but she ripped it out of his grasp and tossed it to the side. The demon brought herself to her full height and gripped Alistair’s chin between her claws, forcing him to look at her. He kept his eyes shut tight, knowing if he looked into her eyes he would fall under her spell.

“Come now…open your eyes, my pet. Don’t you want to see me, your heart’s desire?” she purred.

The demon gripped her claws into Alistair’s face tighter and lifted him off his feet, she held him with one large, clawed hand by his throat. He struggled to free himself and gripped at the demon’s hands but was unsuccessful. She was impeccably strong. Bridget ran towards the demon and attempted to ram her with her shield, but the demon sensed her coming and shot a wave of air from her palm. The force was so great that it knocked Bridget from her feet and nearly threw her across the room. Bridget landed some feet away on the cold stone floor, hard. She was dazed momentarily and took several minutes to get her bearings back. Once she did, she narrowed her eyes at the Desire Demon and gripped her shield.

Alistair was trying his best to break free from the succubus’ grasp, but he was getting weaker as he desperately needed air. Bridget screamed and ran full force with her shield in front of her. She rammed the Desire Demon as hard as she could and successfully broke her away from Alistair. Alistair fell to the floor and gripped at his throat as he gasped for air and coughed up spit. Bridget knelt next to him to help him, but the succubus did not take long to recover and flew back at Bridget equally as hard. Bridget felt completely out of her element. She did not have much experience in dueling with demons, magic in general was a mystery to her. The demon shrieked and conjured orbs of fire. She tossed them expertly in the air and aimed them at Bridget, until she noticed that Alistair was still indisposed.

The demon grinned evilly as she conjured a large fire in her hands. She rose into the air and shot a stream of fire from her hands aiming right for Alistair. Bridget dived towards him and held up her shield. She turned her head towards him and closed her eyes tight as she could feel the heat from the fire bounce off the steel of her shield. Bridget and Alistair could both feel sweat form on their brow from the intensity of the fire, and Bridget grew worried when she could feel her arm suddenly feel the warmth through her armor. Unexpectedly, the fire stopped, and the demon screamed in pain. Bridget peeked over the top of her shield to see that Zeus had jumped onto the demon’s back. The massive war hound growled menacingly and dug his teeth into the side of the demon’s neck. Blue blood gushed from the wound as Zeus shredded her neck with his sharp teeth. Alistair and Bridget watched on in utter disbelief as Zeus continued his work. Once the demon ceased to move, he bit down hard on her neck and dragged her to his mistress, deposited the demon’s body in front of her and sat back and wagged his tail. Bridget ran her blade through the desire demon to ensure she was dead, then, she fell backwards and released a hefty sigh as she stared up into the stone ceiling. Alistair took a sip of water from his wineskin and mimicked Bridget’s actions. They both looked at each other, sweaty and nearly scorched.

“Well…that was extremely unpleasant. Do I still have my eyebrows?” Alistair choked as he cleared his throat.

He offered Bridget his wineskin and she graciously took a sip of water. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she handed it back to him and eyed him worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

Alistair looked her at thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who, me? Never better! Always been a dream of mine, you know, to get my windpipe nearly crushed by a busty blue demon lady.” He replied sarcastically.

Bridget rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the arm.

“Not the time for jokes, Alistair. I was worried about you!”

Alistair took another sip of his wineskin and shrugged.

“Just trying to make light of the situation. But hey, I survived at least, right? What an interesting story I’ll have to tell my grandchildren someday!”

Bridget shook her head and laughed. After a moment, she turned her attention the corpse of the demon and sighed.

"Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

Alistair glanced at Bridget.

“I seriously doubt it, but go on.”

“That we’re absolutely in over our heads if we don’t find someone to help us get through this maze of a tower? I actually wish Morrigan would have come with us on this one.”

Alistair scoffed.

“Oh no. Not me. She would have reveled in the fact that I almost died to a Desire Demon if she would have even helped me get away from that thing! Nope, I’m thankful Zeus and his trusty claws and teeth were here to save the day!”

Zeus barked happily in agreement. Alistair scratched his ears lovingly. 

“Who’s a good boy for getting rid of the big bad demon? Who’s a good boy?”

Zeus barked happily and wagged his tail. Bridget stood and held out her hand for Alistair. He gripped her forearm and stood to his feet.

“Come on, we’re wasting time. Let’s get a move on.” Bridget stated.

 Alistair retrieved his shield and together, he, Bridget, and Zeus continued their way deeper into the tower. Along the way, they ran into more abominations, like the ones that plagued Redcliffe Castle, but for the moment, there were no more desire demons. After what seemed like hours of walking in circles, Bridget finally came upon a locked door. Together with Alistair’s help, they rammed it with their shoulders and broke in the room. Bridget gasped as she was delighted to see a few mages that were unharmed within the room. The mages were all children, probably no more than eight or nine years old. They were huddled in a corner with another young girl who moved to stand in front of them. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. She instructed the others to stand behind her as she gripped her staff.

“D-Don’t come any closer!” she warned.

Before Bridget could say anything, a senior mage stepped into the light. She narrowed her eyes and had her staff pointed directly at Bridget and Alistair. Something about her looked vaguely familiar.

“Not another step or I will strike you down where you stand.” She stated.

Bridget’s eyes widened in recognition. She lowered her weapons and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wynne?”

Alistair, too, lowered his weapons as he recognized the kind, elderly mage from Ostagar. Wynne dropped her staff as she realized who the intruders were. She bowed her head to them.

“Milady Cousland, Alistair. I never thought I would see you after Ostagar.” She stated.

Bridget couldn’t help but run towards the mage and envelope her in a warm hug. Wynne had shown her so much kindness right after the massacre she had endured. She almost felt like family herself, in a way. Wynne returned the hug and sniffled.

“Oh, it is good to see you, my dear. But how did you get here?”

Bridget and Alistair recounted their mission to recruit the mages to aide Connor. Wynne, in turn, explained what happened at the tower. She stated that another senior mage by the name of Uldred, opened a tear into the Fade that allowed demons to slip through into the waking world. What mages they didn’t slaughter were possessed and transformed to join their ranks. Wynne glanced worriedly at the small group of children huddled in the corner and the apprentice mage that was with them.

“We fled in here and I barred the door on the other side with magic. Uldred lies somewhere beyond. He’s taken Irving captive and means to turn him as well! But I know Irving, he is strong, and he will resist…but he can only keep that up for so long. I fear we may be running out of time.”

Bridget shook her head.

“We have to save him, to save anyone that we can! Can you bring the barrier down long enough for Alistair and me to go through? Will it be safe?”

Wynne cast a withered glance to the door and then back to Bridget.

“I can take it down briefly, yes, but you will need me to go with you beyond this room. You cannot face Uldred without the help of a mage and I am the senior enchanter in this room. Sabina can protect the children and keep up the barrier while I join you.”

At this, the young mage gaped at Wynne. She briskly walked over to join the conversation.

“Mistress Wynne, with all due respect, you place too much faith in me. I am still an apprentice…healing is my forte, not combat! I am sorry but I do not think I am capable of doing what you ask of me!” she exclaimed nervously.

Wynne held Sabina’s face in her hands and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“My dear, I have raised you since you were a child brought to this tower. You possess more power than you realize, you need only believe in yourself. You are an Amell, you are descended from one of the most magical families in all of Ferelden. I have no doubt that you will protect these children and keep them safe. But you must believe that you can do it.”

Bridget noticed that Sabina swallowed nervously as a worried notch carved itself between her eyebrows, but she nodded her head. Wynne gave her a brief hug before she walked towards the barrier. Sabina took a deep breath.

“Will you…will you look for him? Will you look for Cullen?” she asked softly.

Wynne turned back to face her young ward and gave her a small, sad smile.

“I do not know what lies beyond this door…and I make no promises. I do not know what hand fate dealt him on this night…but I will try to look for him, child. I will try.” She stated.

Sabina nodded and moved to stand next to Wynne. Bridget, Alistair, and Zeus moved to stand behind them. Wynne looked over her shoulder at them.

“When the barrier comes down, we must run quickly through, Sabina will conjure it back the moment we step through. Make haste, we cannot waste a single moment!”

Bridget and Alistair nodded. Wynne faced the barrier and gripped her staff. She whispered the incantation and slammed her staff on the cold stone three times. The magical barrier faded away and Bridget, Alistair, and Zeus ran into the next room. Wynne followed behind them and just as she stepped through, Sabina conjured a new barrier. She cast a pleading look towards Wynne and her eyes filled with tears.

“Be safe, Mistress.” She whispered.

Wynne nodded and took the lead. With Wynne at their sides, traversing the tower was much easier. She knew her way around all the twists and turns and eventually, they came upon yet another room full of bodies. However, these bodies were nearly bones. Bridget cast Wynne a wary look as they entered further into the room. Alistair looked around worriedly as he felt sweat roll down the side of his face. He turned and stopped abruptly. Bridget walked into him and was about to ask him why he stopped when she followed his gaze. Sitting upon a throne of bones just ahead of them was a massive demon. His red eyes had already spotted Bridget and her companions, so there was no point in trying to hide or run. The demon stood at his full height and towered over them. He had to have been over ten feet tall. His face looked molted together with patchwork skin that he had collected from his victims. Wynne gasped as her eyes fell upon him.

"A sloth demon.” She whispered in disbelief.

The demon turned to her and chuckled darkly.

“I have a name…though your mortal lips wouldn’t dare speak it. I am Baglaruth of the Fade. A pleasure to meet you, Wynne of the Circle and Grey Wardens of Ferelden.” He stated in his dark, eerie voice.

Bridget swallowed nervously.

“How do you know who we are?” she asked.

Baglaruth tipped his head to the side as he contemplated her.

“I know all. I see all. I…end all.” He replied.

Wynne pursed her lips together. She glanced at Bridget.

“Sloth demons rank very high in the demon hierarchy. They are very intelligent, cunning, and ruthless. Often, they must be outsmarted in wits rather than beaten with steel.”

Baglaruth clapped his hands together.

“Someone keeps up on their studies…though I don’t suppose you have much else to do locked away day in and day out, do you?” 

Wynne didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Zeus growled and made to pounce towards Baglaruth, but the demon held out his hand and Zeus was suspended in animation, floating in the air. Bridget could see his deep brown eyes darting around and he looked confused and scared, but no whimpers came from his mouth. Bridget screamed.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s all I have left of home, please!”

The sloth demon cast his eyes upon her. He flicked his wrist and Zeus flew across the room. Luckily, he landed in a soft pile of rags nearby and was unharmed. Baglaruth contemplated Bridget for a long moment. He rubbed his chin with a gnarled hand, his claws were long and deadly.

“Hmm…yes, I know all about you. You’ve been traveling for so long and you haven’t had any proper sleep in ages! That’s not good for someone so young. Tsk tsk. You need to take better care of yourself, child. Why don’t you take a moment to…rest your weary head?”

Zeus trotted back to the party and immediately hit the floor. He released a loud snore and Bridget cursed as she felt her own eyelids become heavy.

“Resist…we must resist! He means to trap us!” Wynne warned.

Baglaruth’s melodic voice sung through the air.

“Oh, weary travelers come lay your head down. Dream of sweet things and forget all around. You’re oh so tired and need to rest, and I will make sure I do my very best, to keep you trapped within my dream world, where you will spend your days laughing and content, whilst your body rots beyond recognition…I will fulfill my own fruition to keep you and hold you and show you things you hold dear, in my nightmare realm you will face your fears!”

Bridget fell to her knees as she saw Alistair lay down and close his eyes. With horror, she noticed his eyes were glazed over as he blinked several times.

“A little nap never hurt anyone, right?” he asked slowly before he was lulled to sleep.

Bridget was on her forearms now, almost bowing before Balgaruth. Wynne collapsed beside her, her staff still clenched in her hand. Balgaruth bent down in front of Bridget. His face was inches from hers.

“Such willpower you have…admirable that may be…you have defied me for too long, as you can see. I am not quick to anger, though you have struck a nerve. I will make sure your dream is one well deserved. Go now, into the realm I have created for you, you’ll see familiar faces of those you once knew. Is it a dream or is it hell, you’ll have to decide! For no one escapes from Baglaruth’s eyes!”

Bridget felt the weight of Balgaruth’s hands push her down to the ground. She fought with all her might to keep blinking, anything to stay awake. She reached out for Alistair who looked peaceful in his sleep. The sweet smile on his face was the last thing Bridget saw before she couldn’t fight anymore. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she felt herself slowly drift away until she felt nothing at all.

xXx

The first sense to return to Bridget was her sense of smell. She breathed in the deep salty air of the sea. Accompanied by her smell came her sense of hearing. She heard the gulls sing their song as they flew overhead and delighted in the sound of ocean waves crashing against the cliffs. Bridget smiled as her sense of touch returned next. The lush grass that she laid in tickled her cheek and finally roused her from her deep slumber. Bridget sat up slowly and yawned. She gracefully stretched her arms above her head as she blinked away the remnants of her sleep. She looked around and sighed happily. She was at home in Highever and all was right with the world…

Bridget suddenly started. She looked around her surroundings again and slowly stood to her feet. This was not right; things were too peaceful. Suddenly, she remembered: Howe’s treachery, becoming a Warden, her new life and the one she was forced to leave behind but…was it possible that had all been some terrible nightmare?

“Ah, Pup! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Bridget took a sharp intake of breath as she felt a lump form in her throat. She turned to face whoever had approached her cautiously, as she remembered the last time she had seen her father, he was grotesque and dead. Bridget faced him and released a shaky breath as tears filled her eyes. Bryce trotted towards his daughter on a magnificent stallion. He looked happy and as healthy as ever with rosy, wind wept cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes. Bridget felt her lip quiver as a tear rolled down her face. Bryce slowed his horse to a canter and tipped his head to the side.

“My dear, whatever is the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” he exclaimed as he dismounted his steed and approached her.

Bridget shot him a wary glance.

“I’m not all sure that I haven’t.” she replied.

Bryce looked around and shook his head.

“I see no spirits here, Pup! Perhaps you just had a bad dream? I see some sleepiness still clings to your eyes.”

Bridget furrowed her brow and described her “dream” to her father. He listened intently and when Bridget finished telling her tale, her father embraced her and hugged her tight. Bryce’s embrace was warm and comforting and as Bridget turned her head and heard the beating of his heart, she wept with joy. Bryce stroked his daughter’s hair and held her close.

“There, there child. It was just a dream. You’re safe now. Nothing can harm you here.” Bridget pulled back slightly and nodded. Bryce placed a chaste kiss to her forehead and chuckled.

“Let us head back to the castle now, shall we? Little Oren has promised us a puppet show this afternoon and we can’t miss it!”

Bridget grinned and nodded. Delighted at the prospect of seeing her nephew again, she was eager to head back home. Bryce turned briefly to adjust the saddle of his horse. Bridget glanced over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind when her heart suddenly skipped a beat and dread dispersed throughout her body like a slow poison. The sun was high in the sky and therefore cast shadows all around. Bridget noted her own shadow and noticed the hilts of her blades on her back even though she was currently unarmed and in a dress. But it was Bryce’s shadow that gave her pause. His shadow was not that of a man, but of a dark and twisted creature.

It wasn’t real. None of this was real. Her father was still dead and as Bridget’s memories flooded back to her like a tidal wave, she was fraught with a tsunami of grief…and of anger. Baglaruth taunted Bridget with this vision knowing the pain it would cause her. Bridget clenched her fists as she was filled with nothing but pure rage.

“Imposter. Liar. Cheat. Fake.” She whispered softly.

“Come again, darling?” Bryce asked as he turned to face her.

Bridget reached behind her and gripped the hilt of her blade. She drew it quickly and poised it at Bryce’s neck.

“Reveal your true form to me. Now!” she demanded.

A dark shadow flitted across Bryce’s face. He withdrew his own blade and readied his stance.

“No! You must fight me as I am, Warden. Are you prepared to slay the image of your father to free yourself?” the demon hissed.

Bridget twisted her face into an agonized grimace and screamed as she swung her blade. The demon blocked her blow and the two began to duel. Every time Bridget swung her blade, the demon would dodge expertly, and every time the demon attacked, Bridget would dodge and roll out of the way. It took a moment for her to realize it, but the demon had copied her fighting style! Bridget had to think fast. She remembered what Wynne had said about Baglaruth, that sloth demons were beaten by cunning and cleverness. Bridget observed her surroundings briefly. There was a nearby pond that the sun reflected off of. As Bridget dodged another attack and rolled out of the way, she made a last-minute decision and made a break for the pond.

The demon was hot on here heels, but Bridget knew better not t look back. Once at the pond, Bridget drew her shield and turned around sharply. The sun bounced and reflected off of the steel of her shield and momentarily blinded the demon. Bridget saw her chance and took it. With a cry of anguish, she slammed her eyes shut and thrusted her sword forward. She felt her blade sink into her enemy’s chest, but she did not stop and continued to push it forward until the hilt was flush with the sternum. When she was sure the demon was dead, Bridget opened her eyes. She cried as the image of her “father” impaled on her blade was burned into her mind. Bryce’s form then began to melt away, as did the area around them. Once the mirage evaporated, Bridget looked around. The sky was purple and green, the earth looked dry, almost scorched. There was nothing in the barren wasteland before her except a lone pedestal. Bridget dropped to her knees and held her head in her hands as she cried. Baglaruth would pay dearly for his trick, that much was certain.

After Bridget took a moment to calm herself down, she realized that her friends were more than likely trapped just as she was. Bridget got to her feet slowly and cautiously approached the pedestal. There were arcane runes carved into the stone in the shape of a pentagram. Bridget nervously touched one of the runes and felt a sudden jerking sensation behind her abdomen. She had an unpleasant feeling, almost as if she were falling. Suddenly, she found herself flat on her back and in a new area and…she was not alone. She stared up into the face of a young mage who looked just as surprised to see her.

“Oh no…I see you’ve met Baglaruth too, eh?”

At this point, Bridget did not know what was real or who could be trusted. She pulled her dagger from the strap at her thigh and with lightning speed, gripped the mage by his robes and held the dagger at his throat.

“What are you?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The mage put up his hands in surrender and swallowed nervously as he eyed the tip of her dagger.

“Friendly! I’m friendly! Not a demon, I swear!”

Bridget narrowed her eyes at him and made no move to lower the weapon, or her guard. The mage continued.

“My name is Niall; I was a journeyman mage at the Circle Tower in Ferelden. Master Uldred turned rogue and ripped a tear in the Veil which allowed demons to spill into the waking world! I was able to get away and I was going to try to stop him with the Littany of Adralla, but I ran into Baglaruth and I became trapped here, same as you!”

Bridget contemplated Niall for a long moment before she sighed and withdrew her dagger. The mage raked his robes back into place and cleared his throat nervously as Bridget still eyed him suspiciously. What he said matched Wynne’s explanation from earlier, but could he be trusted? Could anything be trusted in this dream world?

“I-I know you’re scared, but I can help you. Please, let me help you. You can still get out of here.”

Niall grabbed Bridget’s hand and pulled her to another pedestal that was identical to the one she had looked at earlier.

“This is what we call a Fade Pedestal. I've studied the ancient runes on it. Apparently, this is how you navigate within the Fade to other realms. Baglaruth is in the center island, his inner sanctum, but there are five other islands surrounding him, each with their own respective demon protecting Baglaruth.”

Bridget frowned.

"What about my friends? Are they here too?"

Niall nodded.

"If they were with you when you encountered Sloth, then they too were placed under his spell. They are most likely within another realm…you are the only other I have seen."

Bridget looked at him.

"So, if I can get to the demons in the five different realms and kill them,"

Niall nodded.

"You may then reach Baglaruth. Killing him is the only way out of this…madness."

Bridget sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I am not trained for this; I know next to nothing about magic or mages…how am I supposed to traverse these realms without any magical capability?”

Niall tipped his head to the side as he contemplated her question.

“This is the Fade, milady. Anything is possible here. Even you who were not born of magic can still wield it provided it is granted to you. I was a shapeshifter in the waking world, I can grant you my ability whilst you are trapped here so you can traverse through the realms, find your friends, and finish Baglaruth. You are the Circle Tower’s only hope, you can’t fail for their sake, or your own!”

Bridget, unsure and wary of what she was meant to do, became startled when Niall grabbed her hands and began to whisper several incantations.

“I grant you the ability to shrink and sneak through the tiniest of passages, I grant you great strength and impenetrable skin. I grant you the ability to walk through fire, unscathed. I grant you the power to see things invisible to the mortal eye. Use these powers to save your friends and the mages of the Circle. We are dependent on your success; you must not fail!”

Bridget watched in awe as green and blue whisps surrounded her. She saw flashes of images behind her eyes of the things she could shapeshift into and what she had to do to take on that form. She glanced at Niall and noticed a floating door some feet behind him that she had not seen earlier.

“Behind there is where the demon that controls this realm lies?” she asked.

Niall nodded grimly.

“Yevena, a Desire Demon. Be careful, she loves to manipulate and deceive.”

Bridget drew her brows together nervously. She felt immensely powerful with the gifts Niall had given her, but at the same time she still was not confident in her ability to use them. But she had to believe in herself, the mages, her friends…Alistair…everyone was depending on her to solve this wretched puzzle and pull them out of this mess. Bridget closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she approached the door. She placed her hand on the intricate stone and felt herself fall forward, once again. Bridget was consumed by darkness as that sickening falling feeling filled her stomach. As she landed in Yevena’s realm, Bridget regained her footing and stood, wary but proudly. The weight of everyone’s wellbeing was on her shoulders, and she could feel the hefty burden placed upon her, but she stood at her full height, readied her sword and shield and entered the realm with her head held high.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Of Mages and Demons

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

The Fade

Bridget gripped the hilt of her sword as she cautiously made her way through Yevena’s realm. She did not know when the demon would reveal herself but kept her guard up as she continued along the dusty, barren wasteland. Thunder rolled in the distance and lightning flashed, illuminating the green, purple sky with a vibrant array of colors. No rain fell and apart from the thunder, it was eerily quiet. Bridget swallowed as her footsteps echoed softly around her. She felt almost as if she were trapped in a maze, with twists and turns that never seemed to end. Bridget felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face as her nerves gripped at her stomach like an iron fist. She couldn’t give up, she had to free her friends from Baglaruth’s trap…but where was Yevena?

Suddenly, Bridget heard a soft giggle. It sounded very far away, but she had heard it. Her eyes narrowed as the annoying sound echoed around her. Losing patience, Bridget goaded Yevena and taunted her, in hopes that she would reveal herself. Eventually, when Bridget was nearly mad with impatience, the demon slinked out of her hiding place and frowned slightly as she looked upon Bridget with disdain.

“Oh, you’re a woman. That’s no fun! The man things offer so much more enjoyment.” Yevena stated, her voice dripped in disappointment.

Bridget said nothing but kept her eyes on the demon. She looked much like the other desire demon that she and Alistair had faced earlier, except Yevena’s skin was more purple and her eyes were a piercing yellow, almost like a cat’s. Yevena gazed down at her claws lazily and yawned.

“Well, this is very boring! I can’t tempt you like I can men. So finicky with their small minds…but perhaps there is something else I can offer you?”

Again, Bridget did not respond. She had no intentions of speaking with the demon and potentially falling into a trap. She only frowned as Yevena conjured a purple flame in her hand. The desire demon gracefully waved her wrists and toyed with the flame, it encircled her wrist and forearm like a bracelet and licked gently at her skin.

“You mortals could only dream of such a gift…such power that we hold. I could give that to you, you know. Grant you the ability to shapeshift into anything you want to capture men’s hearts…quite literally. There’s nothing like the rush of ripping out their beating hearts as they gaze at you with doe like eyes, completely enraptured and trapped in your beauty.”

Bridget swallowed.

“You’re only a twisted, shadow of the human you once were, Yevena. I will not fall for your tricks. I want nothing you offer me.”

Yevena raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips together.

“I will not be rejected so easily, mortal. What hope do you have of engaging me in combat? You are no mage, there isn’t a drop of magical blood in your body! You are frail and weak, and you will burn at my touch, I need only conjure the flame.”

Bridget revealed nothing that would give away her ace, Niall’s gift. She lifted her shield and banged the hilt of her sword against the sturdy steel.

“Then conjure it, demon. Let us see who is more powerful, demon or mortal?”

Yevena shrieked in response and her hands erupted into purple flames. The second flame also encircled her wrist and forearm, and she focused the flow of both flames so that she could wield them like whips. Bridget dodged as Yevena attacked, snapping the fire-whip at her with vehemence. A good tactic, Bridget acknowledged. For it would now be difficult for her to get in close. As Bridget continued to dodge and parry Yevena’s attacks, she briefly surveyed the area. She noticed a large rock that jutted out of the ground that she could run atop and jump off, if she was quick enough and her timing was right, she could land on Yevena and bring her down. Bridget thought back to what Niall had said, that she only had to think of the form she wished to transform into, and his magic would help her shapeshift. Taking a deep breath and remembering all that was at stake, Bridget made a break for the rock. She reared back and aimed her shield at Yevena and threw it, hard. Bryce’s shield hit Yevena square in the chest and winded her, breaking her concentration. Bridget put all her weight into her legs and leapt from the tip of the rock.

“Skin like flames!” she cried.

Yevena’s eyes widened as she watched Bridget’s form erupt in blue flames. She had no time to react as Bridget landed on the demon and immediately wrapped her hands around her neck. Yevena choked and screamed as the blue flames enveloped her body and set her skin on fire. She and Bridget crashed to the dirt and Bridget quickly grabbed her sword, one hand still on Yevena’s neck. She wasted no time and thrust her sword into the demon’s heart, piercing her skin and splattering blue blood all over herself. Yevena let out one final cry in defeat and stilled. The glow from her eyes faded and her body slowly withered away to ash. A gentle breeze, almost as if the realm had whispered a ‘thank you’ to Bridget for relinquishing Yevena, drifted by and carried her ashes along with it. The blue flames immediately receded, and Bridget was herself once more. Bridget took a minute to catch her breath and let the adrenaline that had built itself within her die down. She smiled to herself and turned her head to notice another Fade Pedestal had appeared before her. Bridget took a deep breath and grabbed her shield. She strapped it back to her back and replaced her sword as well. She carefully approached the Pedestal and looked at the runes once more. Bridget, no longer afraid, but now even more determined to end this madness, touched another rune and closed her eyes tightly as she was ripped from Yevena’s realm and transported to another.

xXx

When Bridget opened her eyes again, she almost had to shield them as she was nearly blinded by the bright snow that coated the ground. Bridget squinted and lifted her arm to her brow to shield her eyes so that she could make out her surroundings. A great fortress stood only a few feet before her. Bridget’s heart leapt as she noticed the flags that hung outside the fortress bore a mighty Griffon, the Grey Warden symbol. This had to be Alistair’s dream, she was sure of it! Bridget trudged through the snow as quickly as she could and deftly made her way across the short stone bridge. She pushed the large wooden doors open without difficulty and stepped into the fortress quietly. Torches lit a long hallway made entirely of stone. Tapestries depicting the history of the Wardens hung proudly on the walls and the cold floor was adorned with a deep blue rug with silver fringe that stretched all the way from where Bridget stood to the end of the hall which she assumed led into the great hall of the fortress. The air was quiet and still, though when Bridget listened carefully, she thought she could hear raucous laughter in the distance.

Bridget looked up, there had to be some way into the great hall from a higher vantage point so that she would not alert the demons, or Alistair to her presence. She wanted to survey the area first to see exactly what she was dealing with. Bridget hid in the shadows and ran her hand over the stone wall. It was not smooth, but jagged and looked as if it could be climbed, if she could get a good foothold. Bridget progressed halfway down the hall before she found a good spot on the wall that she thought she could climb. She reached up and gripped another piece of stone with her hands and placed her foot against the rock. She hoisted herself up and slowly climbed the wall until she made it to the wooden rafters above. Bridget carefully crawled across the rafters, careful to go slow and not make any noise. After what felt like an eternity of inching along the wood, and acquiring several splinters along the way, Bridget poised herself carefully and peaked into the main hall from her vantage point.

There was a roaring fire that blazed in a large fireplace. Bridget could feel the ghost of its warmth even from her hiding spot. There were three long tables set in front of the fireplace adorned with meats, cheeses, baked goods, stews, wine, and mead. The Grey Wardens of Ferelden sat and ate their grand meal amongst chatter, laughter, and merriment. Bridget scanned their faces in desperation and finally, at long last, her eyes landed on Alistair. Bridget gazed at him sadly as she saw the eager happiness on his face. His cheeks were rosy from laughter and drink, his amber eyes gleamed as bright as the fire, and he looked brighter and joyful more than she had ever seen. Bridget flicked her gaze to the man that sat next to Alistair and her heartstrings strummed with sadness, for it was Duncan whom Alistair was engaged in such an animated conversation with.

Maker damn you, Baglaruth. You are cruel and hateful…how can I ever hope to break this spell when you have given him everything he’s ever wanted? Now I must break his heart to set him free from your curse. I will take the greatest pleasure in killing you, demon. 

Bridget cast her eyes back to Duncan and sighed, for he too was jovial and cheery, a far cry from the last memory she had of him, decapitated on the battlefield with his head in his lap. She did not recognize the other wardens around the table, but noted that there were no women, and only one or two elves and dwarves. Bridget noticed again, that even though the great fire blazed within the fireplace, the only shadow that was present in the room was Alistair’s. Yet so caught up in Baglaruth’s spell was he that he probably had not even noticed. Bridget witnessed the men stand and begin to bid each other a good night. This was her chance, she had to catch Alistair alone before he went back to his quarters. The other men filed out first until Duncan and Alistair were alone. Duncan placed his hand on Alistair’s shoulder and squeezed it kindly.

“You are a fine addition to the Grey Wardens, Alistair. I am so proud of you and the man you have become. Go now and rest, for tomorrow it’s back to training again. I know you will continue to make me proud.”

Alistair beamed at the compliment and bid Duncan a goodnight. Bridget quickly made her way back across the rafters and into the long hallway. She hid in the shadow of a doorway and patiently waited for Alistair to walk by. When he did, she grabbed him from behind, put her hand over his mouth so he would not alert anyone, and dragged him into the room. It was a library of sorts, very dimly lit as the torches had nearly died out. Alistair struggled in Bridget’s grasp until she released him. He whipped around, ready to round on her, but when their eyes met Alistair looked at Bridget in complete shock and grinned.

“Bridget!” he exclaimed.

Bridget shushed him frantically, afraid she would lose the element of surprise on the demons but was at a loss for words when Alistair lifted her into his arms and spun them in place in a tight hug.

“I didn’t think you would make it! We had all but given up hope that you would join us! How did you get here? We’ve been waiting for ages for you to show up so we could celebrate your Joining!”

Bridget pulled herself out of Alistair’s arms and held him at arm’s length. She looked at him dead in his eyes and her heart broke as she tried to think of how to explain to him that all of this was a mirage.

“Alistair…I need you to listen to me, to every word I say. Think about where you were before you got here, do you remember?” she asked.

Alistair furrowed his brow and became confused.

“Um…no…I’ve been here for a while now, I don’t really remember wat I was doing before I got here, actually. But that doesn’t matter! You’re here now and, Duncan! We have to tell Duncan you’ve made it!”

Alistair tried to turn away, but Bridget gripped his arms and forced him to look at her.

“Think Alistair! Redcliffe, Arl Eamon, unconscious and poisoned, Connor attacked us because a demon had infiltrated his mind. We promised Isolde and Teagan that we would consult the mages at the Circle to save him and we were trapped by Baglaruth, the sloth demon. Does any of that ring a bell?” she asked desperately.

Alistair blinked a few times and shook his head.

“I…n-no. I don’t think I believe you…” he said slowly.

Bridget could tell the reality was beginning to set in, he just didn’t want to admit it. She softened her approach and released his arms. She gently placed her hand at the side of his face and looked up at him sadly.

“Would I ever lie to you?” she asked softly.

Alistair caught her gaze and Bridget’s heart broke as she saw the ghost of tears in his eyes. Alistair swallowed the lump in his throat and placed his hand atop Bridget’s.

“So, you mean…none of this…this isn’t real?”

Bridget blinked back her own tears and shook her head.

“It’s all a trick…he did it to me too, I thought I was home in Highever…I saw my father, we have to get out of here, Alistair. But I need you to trust me.”

Alistair took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He nodded and gripped Bridget’s hand.

“Of course…I trust you with my life.” He whispered.

Bridget smiled up at him and pulled him into a tight hug. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent. Alistair hugged Bridget back just as tightly, stroking her golden locks with his hand.

“What a surprise! You made it after all!”

Bridget and Alistair pulled apart to see Duncan walk into the room. He grinned broadly and held out his arms in welcome.

“Welcome to Weissaupt Fortress, Lady Cousland.” He stated.

Alistair frowned. He reached for the sword at his back and drew it, leveled it with Duncan’s heart.

“This is nothing but a sham. I know what you are. Reveal your true self, now!” he shouted.

Duncan’s mouth twitched as he cast his eyes to Bridget.

“You bitch, you will not have him!” the demon shouted.

This demon dropped Duncan’s guise and revealed it’s true form, a large stone golem. It grabbed one of the bookcases easily off the ground as if it were as light as paper and lunged it at Bridget and Alistair. Both Wardens dived out of the way as they dodged the golem’s vicious attacks. It roared in anger and continued to lunge more furniture and stones at them. Bridget and Alistair ran to a nearby corner to catch their breath.

“How are we supposed to kill this thing? Our blades can’t pierce stone!” Alistair exclaimed.

Bridget looked up at him and smiled as she thought of Niall’s gift once again. She instructed Alistair to find cover and wait. Alistair moved to stop her, but Bridget shook her head.

“I’ve got my own tricks for these demons.” She stated coolly.

Alistair watched on as Bridget squared her shoulders and ran towards the demon. She quickly dodged out of the way of it’s projectiles, and once she got close enough to him, she screamed,

“Heart of stone!”

Alistair gasped in amazement as Bridget transformed into a golem herself. Again, taken by surprise that a mortal had shapeshifted before them, the demon was caught of guard. Bridget took his momentary daze to her advantage. She rammed into the demon with as much force as she could muster and crushed it against the wall. She then reared her fist back and punched the golem as hard and as quickly as she could until she pummeled it to nothing but pebbles and dust. Once the demon was defeated, Bridget reverted to her mortal form and turned to Alistair. He grinned at her as he emerged from his area of cover and shook his head.

“I am consistently amazed by you, you know that?” he asked.

Bridget smiled at him and opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly, the ground shifted beneath their feet as the entire fortress began to collapse. Bridget and Alistair both held their shields above their heads to protect themselves from any falling debris. Bridget noticed the Fade Pedestal in the distance. She grabbed Alistair’s hand and together, dodging falling stone and jumping over small crevices, they made their way to the Pedestal. Bridget quickly touched a rune and held onto Alistair’s hand tightly as she closed her eyes. The room spun like a fierce tornado, became nothing for a moment, and then she and Alistair were thrust into yet another nightmare.

xXx

When Bridget opened her eyes once again after recovering from the unpleasant feeling that was Pedestal travel, she found herself staring up at a dusty stone ceiling. Bridget blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the dimly lit room. Whereas Alistair’s dream had been filled with a sense of warmth and belonging, this realm was cold and desolate. Bridget slowly sat up as Alistair did the same. He rubbed his head with his free hand.

“Ouch…I don’t think I’m a fan of that Pedestal.” He stated.

Bridget looked down at their hands and realized they were still clasped. She quickly drew her hand away and looked down, embarrassed. Alistair felt the sudden withdraw but decided now was not the time to say anything. He and Bridget both stood and there was an awkward silence that surrounded them for a moment. Suddenly, both Wardens heard a very faint, very soft sound. Bridget narrowed her eyes as she listened harder.

“Is that…is someone weeping?” she asked softly.

Alistair nodded.

“Yes, I think so.” He replied.

The flickering flames in the torches on the walls were dying, only soft embers remained which didn’t provide much light. Alistair took Bridget’s hand on instinct and when she turned to look at him, he shrugged.

“You know…so we don’t get lost. It is rather dark.”

Bridget gave him a small smile, but at the sound of the weeping, she turned away sharply.

“Let’s follow that sound.”

The two Wardens gently made their way along the dark, dank corridor. The further they walked away from the Fade Pedestal, the colder the air grew. Bridget could see her breath form and dissipate in front of her as a shiver ran down her spine. Eventually, she and Alistair found a wooden door only partly closed. The sobs were louder here and appeared to be coming from the other side. Alistair tentatively opened the door and he and Bridget stepped through. The carnage that lay beyond the door was almost too horrid to speak of. Bridget snapped her eyes shut and gasped as she instinctively turned to Alistair. He also looked away in despair. The room was filled with the bodies of young children, all mages. They had been slain, some ripped apart and others missing limbs. Amongst them, Wynne sat on her knees in the middle of the room, holding a corpse in her arms. She rocked back and forth as her sobs shook her body and she released an anguished cry. Bridget opened her eyes and grimaced. She tried her best not to rake her eyes over all the bodies and slowly approached Wynne. She kept her distance and sat on her knees in front of the elderly mage. Bridget looked briefly at the body that Wynne held and noticed that it was of her apprentice, Sabina. The light had completely left the young mage’s eyes. The young mage stared blankly up at Wynne, her body just a hollow shell of the bright soul it once carried.

“I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save any of you. Why am I left to live? What did I do to deserve this as my punishment?”

Wynne’s body racked with sobs as her tears fell onto Sabina’s pallid face. She gently placed her hands over her eyes to close them, forever. Bridget softly called out to the old mage and Wynne sniffled. She looked up slowly at Bridget. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, Tears streaked her face and fell into the wrinkles and crevices of her skin, lodging themselves there like little pebbles in a river. Wynne huffed out a breath and narrowed her eyes.

“You. I trusted you. I believed every half-truth and lie that slithered from your lips and I had faith in you. I believed in you…yet you betrayed me and left them all to die…every one of them.”

Bridget took a chance and slowly moved an inch closer. She did not know if Wynne would lash out at her, in her anger and despair. She chose her words carefully as she tried to explain what had happened.

“Wynne. I know you do not know me very well, but I would not abandon innocents. I would do everything in my power to save anyone that I could, even if it meant risking my own life. You are in the Fade, and you are trapped under Baglaruth’s spell. He had Alistair and I fooled as well, you must see through his lies and break free from the torment he has trapped you in.”

Wynne clenched her fists.

“You lie. How do I know you are not a demon yourself, trying to trick me further? My charges are dead because of me. Because I couldn’t save them. All the children…our future…gone up in smoke…and only I remain. It should have been me, not them. I don’t deserve to be here when they suffered, and I did not.”

Bridget reached forward and placed her hands on Wynne’s and squeezed them gently.

“Wynne, you must believe me! Think back, we ran into you and Sabina, you came with us to help us navigate through the Tower and we stumbled into Baglaruth’s lair. He trapped us here with a riddle in hopes that we would wither away forever in the hellish nightmares he has created. You know, deep down, I would never abandon anyone!”

Wynne blinked and suddenly, her dull eyes became bright once more. She shook her head in disbelief and looked around at her surroundings. Slowly, the bodies of the mages began to fade into nothing as Baglaruth’s spell weakened. 

“Maker…it was all so real… I can’t believe after all of my years I nearly fell…”

Before Wynne could finish her sentence, Sabina’s eyes flew open but instead of the bright natural color of her iris, they were pure black. With lightning speed, Sabina reached for Wynne’s throat. She lifted the elderly mage up with only one hand and they both began to rise into the air.

YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME!

The demon threw Wynne to the side like a rag doll, she flew right into Alistair and both of Bridget’s companions fell, Alistair was winded but was trying his best to regain his footing to help Wynne stand. Bridget turned her attention back to the demon and screamed. She thought once again of being able to wield fire and erupted in blue flame. She focused all her energy into a stream of fire aimed right at the demon. Though the demon may have seemed powerful, it was a lesser demon in the hierarchy and did not take much to overcome. The blue flames enveloped the demon and became like chains, immobilizing it and burning into its rotting flesh. The demon screamed in pain until it was no more, eviscerated by the flames. Just as Yevena had, it’s ashes were caught by a soothing breeze and carried what remained of it away. Bridget once again reverted to her mortal form and quickly ran to Alistair and Wynne. Wynne blew the errant strands of gray hair out of her eyes and nodded her head towards Bridget.

“Thank you for returning me to myself.” She said, gratefully.

Bridget nodded and pulled Wynne into a tight hug. Alistair noticed another Fade Pedestal and nudged Bridget. The three companions approached it and Bridget looked down at the Runes. Only two more left before the inner sanctum would open, before Baglaruth was hers.

In the next realm, the party was overwhelmed by Darkspawn of all things and surrounded by fire. Thankfully with Wynne at their sides, she was able to cast a spell to protect Alistair from the hungry flames while Bridget used Niall’s gift. She felt as though she were descending into the Deep Roads as the farther she and her friends progressed, the fiercer the Darkspawn became. After slaying over a hundred Darkspawn and finding her way into his layer, the demon of this realm, Rhagos finally appeared before her. A malevolent fire demon, Rhagos was fueled by anger and contempt. Bridget was thankful she had Wynne and Alistair to help her bring him down. During the skirmish, Bridget took the form of an ice spirit. Rhagos roared in rage as he was tricked. Bridget conjured a spear of ice in her hand, she reared back and threw it with as much force as she could muster. The spear impaled Rhagos right through the heart and slowly, his fire burned out as he was encapsuled in ice. Bridget took her sword and swung it down, hard, shattering Rhagos and freeing the realm from his clutches. Upon his death, the feeling of dread ebbed away, and peace once again returned to the spirits that inhabited the realm. Bridget approached the Fade Pedestal once more and touched the next rune, eager and anxiously waiting for her eventual meeting with Baglaruth.

Upon entering the next realm, Bridget oddly felt an overabundance of joy. She furrowed her brow and looked around to see a huge pile of bones, and Zeus rolling around in the dirt, giddily chewing on a bone and pawing at another one. Bridget couldn’t help but laugh. She whistled for Zeus and his ears perked up. The massive war-hound turned his whole body and the second his big, brown eyes landed on Bridget; he made a beeline for her. Zeus pounced on Bridget and knocked her backwards, eagerly licking her face and barking happily. His little nub for a tail wagged so fiercely, Alistair thought for sure it would fly off. Wynne chuckled.

“Apparently not all of Baglaruth’s mirages are filled with nightmares and dark things.” She stated.

The entire party reunited; the final Fade Pedestal appeared before Bridget. She glanced down at it nervously and then at her friends. The inner sanctum was finally unlocked. They could enter Baglaruth’s lair and end this, once and for all. Before Bridget touched the rune to teleport them, Wynne placed her hand gently on her shoulder.

“A word of caution, the demons we have faced here will be nothing compared to Baglaruth and his wrath. This will not be an easy fight.”

“That’s why you will need all the help you can get.”

Bridget and the others turned to see Niall walking towards them. He grinned at Bridget and nodded his head towards her.

“There was no doubt in my mind that your determination to save your friends would vanquish the demons residing over the realms. I will go with you to assist in helping you take down Baglaruth. I may not have been able to save anyone while I was alive, but if I can help you defy and kill him, my death will not have been in vain.”

Bridget nodded.

“Happy to have you with us, Niall.”

Bridget poised her hand over the final rune. She looked briefly at all of her friends as they each took each other’s hands. Zeus placed his paw in Bridget’s free hand. Bridget took a deep breath and released it slowly. She gently pressed her fingertips against the rune and, for the last time, felt the world fall out from under her feet as she and her friends were teleported to the Inner Sanctum.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

The End of Nightmares

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

The Fade

When Bridget opened her eyes, she felt an immediate sensation of dread sweep over her entire body. She and her friends stood in a dank cistern. The sound of trickling and dripping water sent shivers down their spines. There was barely any light, but Bridget could make out a throne of bones in the distance, upon which Baglaruth sat. Perched like a vulture eying it’s prey, he cast his eyes upon Bridget and the others in disdain. Bridget and her companions slowly made their way forward as they cautiously approached the sloth demon. The water was thick and heavy, Bridget looked down to discern why she was having such a hard time moving through the water and realized that the water wasn’t water at all…it was blood. Bridget swallowed the scream that rose in her throat as she shot her gaze back to Baglaruth. The demon stood at it’s full height and looked extremely displeased. His gaze found Bridget’s and she noticed him snarl.

“I admit…I drastically underestimated you, Warden. You have seen through the charade of my nightmares and killed all my guardians. Your luck ends here, now. I look forward to adding your body to my throne.” He stated menacingly.

Bridget gripped the hilt of her sword, as did Alistair. Zeus growled and Niall and Wynne both held their staves at the ready. Baglaruth opened his mouth inhumanly wide, and insects flew forth from his mouth. The angry bugs swarmed Bridget and her companions briefly, but Niall was quick to conjure a large orb that trapped the raging insects within it. He then twirled his staff and opened his left palm. He closed it tightly and Bridget watched, amazed as a fire irrupted within the orb, singeing, and burning the bugs within. Baglaruth roared and threw his hands up in the air. Bridget and her friends scattered around the cistern as Baglaruth somehow controlled the blood around him. Almost as if he was dancing with the dark liquid, he directed it towards Bridget and her friends with malice.

“Choke and drown on the blood of those you could not save!” he snarled.

Bridget and Alistair thrusted their shields down onto the ground and pulled Wynne and Niall behind them. The blood washed over them as Wynne conjured a forcefield around the warriors so that they would not be swept away. Baglaruth again roared in anger. Niall looked at Bridget and nodded.

“You still have my gift, use it to get in close!” he exclaimed.

Niall and Wynne both stood and began to twirl their staffs, centering their magic on Baglaruth. Alistair ran to distract the sloth demon as Bridget imagined herself as a golem once more. She transformed into the hulking stone beast and ran towards Baglaruth with all her might. Alistair rolled out of the way as Bridget reared back and punched Baglaruth square in his jaw. The demon stumbled backwards clearly taken off guard, but he regained his composure quickly. Bridget returned to her human form as Wynne and Niall directed their flow of magic at Baglaruth to try and break down his defenses, his skin was almost like armor itself!

Baglaruth roared again and suddenly transformed into a large spider. His pincers were deadly sharp, and poison dripped from his fangs. His eight eyes stared at Bridget hungrily and in a flash, he scuttled towards her. Wynne and Niall continued to blast magic at the demon whilst Bridget ran away, and Alistair tried to look for any opening he could to flank the demon. Bridget felt her heart racing and ringing in her ears. She looked at her surroundings and bit her lip as she continued to dodge the large pincers and legs of Baglaruth’s new form. As Bridget formed an idea in her mind, she didn’t have time to think it through. She made a break for a large piece of debris that jutted out from the ground. Baglaruth began to gain on her as she broke out into a full run. Bridget ran up the debris and turned sharply. She jumped into the air and twisted her body so that she would land on the spider’s back. Miraculously, she did so. Bridget held on tightly as she tried to grip her sword. Bagaruth was trying desperately now to shake Bridget off. In the skirmish, Bridget dropped her sword and cursed as she heard the metal clang to the damp floor. Baglaruth took off scuttling as fast as he could towards the wall. Bridget realized he meant to climb up the wall towards the ceiling. If she fell from that height, she knew she would not make it.

“Bridget! Catch!”

Bridget turned her head to see Alistair trying to keep up pace. He reared back to throw her sword back to her. Alistair threw Bridget’s sword like a javelin and Bridget expertly caught it in her hand. She turned her attention back to Baglaruth and without second thought, slammed her blade into his head. Green bile erupted from the wound as Baglaruth shrieked in pain. He began to sway as Bridget continued to push her sword deeper into the beast. Eventually, Baglaruth fell to the floor, his massive spider like body stilled, and he finally died. Bridget sat back against her heels and sighed as she let her head drop.

“Maker knows I am ready to be done with this place.”

After catching her breath, she unlogged her sword from Baglaruth’s head. She grimaced at the sticky green blood that coated her blade. Alistair offered Bridget a hand and helped her descend the beast. She thanked him and they made their way over to Niall and Wynne. Both mages looked tired from all the mana they had used, but they both smiled as Bridget approached them. The companions all hugged each other for a moment, thankful that Baglaruth’s nightmare had finally come to an end. As the final Fade Pedestal, the one that would take them back to the waking world appeared, Niall took Bridget’s hands in his.

“Remember the Litany of Adralla. It’s on my body back in your world. Take it and save everyone else before they fall to the same fate. I know you can do it. I’m counting on you.”

Bridget nodded and thanked Niall for all his help. He watched gratefully as she and her friends approached the Fade Pedestal. They said their goodbyes and as quickly as Bridget had touched the Pedestal, she found herself in the same room in which they had encountered Baglaruth for the first time. Bridget and her friends slowly stood to their feet. It almost seemed a dream to finally be out of the nightmares that had insnared them for so long. Alistair found Niall’s body and frowned sadly as he found the Litany on his corpse. He placed his hands over Niall’s eyes and closed them, hoping he had now found peace. Alistair handed the Litany to Bridget. Bridget looked at Wynne and nodded.

“Where to?” she asked.

Wynne took the lead and held her staff at the ready.

“Not much further now. My guess is that Uldred is in the Harrowing Chamber.”

Bridget and Alistair looked at each other uneasily and carefully followed Wynne throughout the rest of the tower. They ran into more abominations along the way, but after encountering everything they had seen in the fade, these were like child’s play. Eventually after more staircases, twists, and turns, Bridget and the others ran into a dark room that was only illuminated by a large forcefield like spell that trapped a single templar within. Wynne’s eyes widened as she hurried over to the templar. She placed her hand on the field of magic and recoiled quickly, almost as if it had burned her.

“Cullen? Cullen!” she cried.

Bridget looked down at the templar and drew her brows together. He looked as if he had been through so much, seen so much. Fear was present deep in his eyes as he looked up at them. He shook his head and looked away.

“Be gone! Can’t you just leave me alone? Why must you torment me still?” he pleaded.

Wynne knelt in front of the templar and shook her head, shushing him softly.

“Cullen, listen to me. I am not a demon; I am not a figment or a spell. It’s me, Mistress Wynne.”

Cullen looked at her warily and then cast his eyes on the others. He glanced back at Wynne and moved closer to the forcefield.

“Where’s Sabina? Is she alright? Has she…”

Wynne nodded, thankful that he was easy to convince.

“Yes, she’s fine. I left her with the children so that I could help the Grey Wardens reach Uldred. Is that who cast this spell? What happened to you?”

Cullen’s eyes darkened as he drew his knees up to his chest and shook his head.

“Do not speak that name! They caged us like animals and slaughtered us! All my friends…they’re dead now. I don’t know why I survived or why I was spared but I…I can’t take it! End it, end it please! All I see every time I close my eyes are my dead friends, I can’t do this anymore!” he whimpered as he began to rock back and forth.

Bridget knelt next to Wynne and looked at Cullen sympathetically.

“I am sorry about your friends, but you must stay strong. We will save the mages, I promise.”

At this, Cullen lifted his head and looked at her.

“Save them? Save them? After all they’ve done? Kill them. They don’t deserve to live! Not after all the horrors they have unleashed!”

Wynne shook her head.

“Cullen, you know it was not all of us who did these horrible things! We should not all face the guillotine when only a handful were in Uldred’s pocket!” she chastised.

Cullen cut his eyes to her and narrowed them.

“How do any of us know something like this won’t happen again? They cannot be trusted!” he exclaimed.

Wynne looked at Cullen and frowned.

“Even Sabina?” she asked softly.

Bridget noticed the templar’s expression softened at the mention of the young mage’s name. He broke his eye contact with Wynne and looked down. He then looked up at Bridget and sighed.

“You are the unbiased party here, so you must be the one to make this decision, Warden. I pray you make the right one.” He stated.

Muffled screams erupted from behind the large ornate doors up the steps nearby. Bridget and Alistair shared a withered glance as they approached the doors. Wynne gripped her staff.

“This is the Harrowing Chamber. Uldred lies beyond. Remember, we have the Litany to save those he is trying to possess, we must use it to our advantage to save as many mages as we can!”

Bridget nodded and she, Alistair, and Zeus carefully and quietly followed Wynne into the Harrowing Chamber. The scene before them shocked and appalled them. Uldred had several mages tied together and gagged as they cried and screamed, watching in horror as he tortured their friends. Bridget gasped softly and put her hand over her mouth as she witnessed Uldred conjure electricity in his hands and shock the mage in front of him. They mage screamed in pain and torment and fell to the floor on his hands and knees, hard. Uldred then lifted the mage with magic and looked down on him.

“Do you accept the gift I offer?”  he asked slowly.

Tears rolled down the mage’s eyes as he looked at the electricity jumping in Uldred’s other hand. The mage nodded in anguish and Uldred smiled as the other mages groaned and cried. He dropped the mage to the floor again and then grabbed his staff from his back. Uldred yelled an intricate incantation and Bridget and the others watched in horror as the mage transformed into an abomination. His skin bubbled up and looked as if it were boiling from the inside out. Bridget turned her head and snapped her eyes shut as she could hear the mage’s bones breaking away. When the transformation was complete, the newly born abomination growled. Uldred grinned evilly and petted his new minion on the head.

“Fetch me another one.” He ordered.

The abomination moved forward to the group of mages who began to writhe in the confines of their bindings and shake their heads. Wynne’s eyes widened as she noticed Irving. She pointed the elderly mage out to Bridget.

“We must save him, he’s our only hope of returning everything to normal. The Litany can only be used when Uldred is using the incantation. Save as many as you can and let the rest of us deal with Uldred. Try to get to Irving first. He’s a powerful mage and our best shot at bringing Uldred down. I can’t do it alone.” She explained.

Bridget nodded. She looked at Alistair and Zeus and motioned for them to follow Wynne’s lead. Wynne emerged from the shadows and thrust her staff on the ground as Alistair and Zeus moved to stand behind her.

“Enough!” she cried.

Uldred whipped around to look at her and grinned maliciously. Bridget grimaced at his face from a distance. He looked disgustingly pleased with himself. Uldred had a very pointed face and a hooked nose. His bald head shone with perspiration from all the mana he was using.

“Wynne! So wonderful of you to finally join us! I was wondering where you were. And it looks like you’ve brought some friends! How delightful! My pets have not tested their new abilities yet, now I won’t have to waste any mages!”

Wynne narrowed her eyes and gripped her staff.

“Release them and surrender, it’s over Uldred!” she shouted.

As Uldred and Wynne continued to share a dialogue, Bridget continued to sneak along in the shadows. She deftly made her way towards the mages. Upon reaching them, she pressed her finger to her lips to indicate that they needed to be quiet. The frightened mages nodded their heads and turned their attention back to Uldred and Wynne. Bridget grabbed her dagger from her thigh and quickly began to cut through the thick rope. She heard Wynne yelp and looked over her shoulder to see that Uldred had engaged her in combat. Alistair and Zeus leapt into action to come to Wynne’s aid. Bridget cursed as Uldred whipped around and noticed her as she tried to free the mages.

“Seize her, now!” he shouted.

The abominations that were in the room all turned their attention to Bridget and moved toward her at once. Bridget frantically continued to try and cut the ropes that bound the mages. At last, she finally broke through and the mages were freed from their bindings, but they were not yet free from Uldred. The mages scattered and tried to run for their lives, but Uldred began to chant the incantation to turn them into abominations even though he was still fighting off Wynne, Alistair, and Zeus. Bridget watched as several of the mages froze where they stood as Uldred tried to grip them in his spell.  

“The Litany! Use the Litany!” Wynne shouted.

As Bridget dodged attacks from Uldred, she ran to each mage that was trapped in his spell and freed them using the Litany of Adralla. Uldred snarled as he grabbed his own dagger. He slit his wrist and began chanting a new kind of spell. Bridget’s eyes widened as Uldred transformed into a great beast before them.

“Blood magic! He’s turned into a Pride demon!” Wynne screamed.

As if Baglaruth wasn’t strong enough, one swoop of Uldred’s hand was enough to send five mages flying backwards, knocking them out cold as they landed against the stone floor. Bridget looked around desperately for Irving. She found the First Enchanter holding a wound at his side and desperately trying to reach the pile of staves that were hidden out of the skirmish. Bridget ran up to him and put her body under his arm. Irving became startled and then relaxed as he stared down at her.

“Thank you. Once I have my staff I can…end this.” He stated.

Bridget looked over her shoulder as she and Irving moved as quickly as they could to the staves. Wynne and Uldred were nearly nose to nose. Wynne had conjured a large ice storm to try to freeze the demon Uldred had become in his place, but he broke free of it easily. At last, Bridget and Irving reached the pile of Staves. Irving quickly found his and healed himself. He then scooped the other staves under his arm and instructed Bridget to do the same. Together, they ran about the room. As Wynne, Alistair, and Zeus kept Uldred occupied, Iriving went around healing the other mages and Bridget gave them back their staves. Wynne narrowed her eyes and focused all her mana on Uldred. She felt her knees become weak and her nose begin to bleed as she used as much force as she could to stream the flow of her magic straight at Uldred’s chest. Uldred roared in pain and reared backwards to knock Wynne back when suddenly, he became still. Irving and the other mages came into light, each chanting an incantation and twirling their staves in unison. They conjured what looked like golden rope out of nowhere that wrapped around Uldred like a large snake. With their combined magic, they brought the large demon to it’s knees. As the other mages continued the incantation and kept Uldred from moving, Irving rushed over to Wynne and helped her stand. Wynne took his hand gratefully and stood slowly. She blew her grey hair out of her eyes and nodded at Irving.

“Let’s finish this, together.” She stated.

Irving nodded. He and Wynne both took a deep breath and gripped their staves. They whispered a complex incantation and twirled their staves in unison. As the spell was complete and they thrusted their staves into the floor, a large gash appeared in Uldred’s chest. A blinding white light poured out of the wound as the rest of his body began to erupt in the bright light as well. Uldred gave one final, anguished scream before the wound in his chest exploded and nothing of the mage remained.

Bridget and Alistair moved quickly to Wynne and Irving who both lost their footing and stumbled slightly. The other mages rushed forward and encouraged them both to drink a blue potion in a flask. Once they had done so, their vigor returned. Irving pulled Wynne into his arms and gave her a tight hug.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, my dear friend. How did you manage to find us?”

Wynne hugged Irving back and pulled away. She nodded towards Bridget and the others.

“I couldn’t have without their help. We must bring you back to Greagoir. He will invoke the Right of Annulment unless he sees you, unharmed before him.”

Irving sighed wearily.

“I nearly die and now I must deal with the politics of the Templars? There truly is no rest for the First Enchanter. Very well, I will need assistance getting down all these stairs.”

The party and the freed mages made their way back to the first level of the tower where many wounded Templars still were being treated. Bridget cast her eyes over the mages that remained. There were maybe twenty, thirty? Perhaps there were more still within the tower that were alive and uncounted for. Their numbers had severely decreased due to Uldred’s attack. Bridget worried if they would provide enough help with the Darkspawn with their numbers being so few. They party approached a very distressed Greagoir who took one look at Irving and sighed.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive.” He stated.

Irving chuckled.

“It will take more than one disgruntled, power-hungry mage to take me out, old friend. But I am here now and there is no reason to follow through with the Annulment.”

Cullen, the terrified templar from before, stepped out of the shadows and frowned.

“How do you know he’s not already a demon that’s just telling you that?”

Wynne narrowed her eyes at him.

“Cullen! We have already discussed this!”

Before Cullen could say anything, Wynne’s ward, Sabina, emerged with the children she had been charged with. Her eyes locked with Cullen’s and she ran towards him, full force. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly as tears ran down her face.

“I thought you were dead.” She sniffled.

Cullen did not move to hug her back. He still looked extremely wary and untrusting. Sabina pulled back and looked up at him.

“Cullen?” she asked softly.

The Templar still did not respond. Sabina looked at her feet and became embarrassed. She moved to stand next to Wynne who put her arm around the young mage and whispered something in her ear. Greagoir cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned his attention to Bridget.

“I’ll ask you then. Do you believe that the mages have truly regained their minds?” he asked.

Bridget looked at the mages around her and nodded confidently.

“Yes. Uldred was the temptation, and he is dead. They have regained their minds, fully. I assure you.” She stated.

Greagoir put his hands behind his back.

“Then I will take your word as a Warden for it. You may have the mages’ support in the battle against the Darkspawn, should you need them. Now, if we are quite finished, I need to begin the process of cleaning up and rebuilding what we’ve lost. Irving…I’m glad you didn’t die.” He stated.

Irving ran his hand down his long, grey beard and chuckled.

“Oh, I am sure we will be at each other’s throats again in no time arguing about this and that, but I do appreciate the sentiment. I will help you with repairs.”

Bridget interjected at this and explained to Irving what was happening in Redcliffe and that she needed his help there. The First Enchanter nodded his head and sighed as she recounted the tale.

“Hmm…this will not be an easy task. If the child is as powerful as you say, this demon could have a great potential to cause even more havoc if they are able to fully take control. Very well. Wynne and I will travel out to Redcliffe ahead of you so that I may assess the situation.”

Bridget grinned and offered Pandora and Pyoris to the elderly mages so that they would not have to walk. As the group exited the Tower and reconvened with Leliana and Morrigan, Bridget took a deep breath of fresh air. She was so glad to finally be free from that place and took a moment to pity the mages that still had to live trapped within. Bridget took a moment to appreciate the fresh air, the wind that gently blew past, and the sun that warmed her face when she looked up into the sky. Alistair found himself staring at Bridget. The sun made her hair gleam like gold. Leliana caught him staring and elbowed him playfully, giving him a sheepish grin as she did so. Alistair rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and refused to look at the teasing bard, but still found his eyes on Bridget not a moment later. Wynne and Irving soon joined the others after a tearful goodbye to the other mages with the promise of returning soon. Irving and Wynne slung the items they would need to help Connor onto the horses and they both mounted the animals without difficulty.

“We will see you in Redcliffe. Be safe, Wardens.”

After a brief farewell, Bridget and the others watched as Irving and Wynne trotted off until they were no longer visible in the distance. Bridget turned and looked at the others. Morrigan crossed her arms.

“Will the mages help us then?” she asked.

Bridget nodded as she turned to look back at the tower.

“Yes…let us begin to head back. We will travel some ways and then make camp to rest.”

The companions all agreed and began to set off down the Imperial Highway once more. Bridget was eager to rest without being plagued by nightmares. The more space she placed between herself and the Circle Tower, the better she began to feel. Soon, she would find herself sitting by the campfire and talking with her friends, enjoying a meal made by Leliana, and resting after a mentally exhausting mission. However, something…someone lurked in the shadows. He followed Bridget’s every move and already, had a trap lying in wait. There would be no rest for Bridget and her friends…he had a contract to complete and now, after weeks of waiting, it was the opportune moment.

“At dusk, then?” his new companion asked from the shadows.

The assassin flipped a coin and caught it expertly between his dexterous fingers. He smiled devilishly from under his hood.

“At dusk.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

The Antivan Assassin

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Imperial Highway

            Once again, Bridget and her friends set off along the Imperial Highway and began the journey back to Redcliffe. The companions were silent, save for Leliana’s soft humming of a song and Zeus snorting here and there as they continued to make their way through a patch of woods. Bridget found her thoughts wandering as she skimmed over several things in her head. Her unresolved grief, her guilt from leaving her family, and these strange, budding feelings, if you could call them that, for Alistair. All the swirling emotions within herself seemed to dampen her mood and form a notch between her brow as she remained deep in thought. Alistair walked in stride next to her in companionable silence, but Bridget knew he wished to speak to her, would remind her that she told him they would revisit their last conversation later. However, Bridget wasn’t ready to address it yet. She wrung her hands together absentmindedly and released a heavy sigh. How could she feel anything at all for anyone when Willem’s body was barely even cold? Given…what she and Willem had was more of a tryst than love, but she had cared for him and feeling any kind of attachment to anyone else so soon after his death felt like a deep insult to his memory.

            Still, as Bridget tentatively cast her eyes up at Alistair, she felt a small flutter within her chest and a smile tug at her lips. Perhaps she only felt this…attraction because they were both thrust into these circumstances so suddenly and unexpectedly, had been through so much together that it was, in a way, a coping mechanism for them both. Confused and frustrated with herself and her inability to make up her mind, Bridget sighed again and looked down at her feet. This should be the last thing she should be thinking about…but Bridget admitted she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t like Alistair taking the time to comfort her when she needed it. As Bridget waged an inner war with herself and her feelings, Alistair did the same. He found himself taking the opportunity to steal a glance at her whenever she wasn’t looking. He hoped that she had not forgotten her promise to talk about their last encounter soon, though he would not push her to do so. Alistair absentmindedly palmed the hilt of his sword and sighed. He knew he tended to not make very good decisions, and the logical side of his brain told him that whatever this was, whatever budding feeling he had was best to be nipped before it blossomed into anything else…but his heart refused to listen. Yet still, because of his own admitted cowardice, he did not wish to tell Bridget of his past, his potential destiny. Could he possibly hope to ever have something more than friendship with her if he withheld such a large part of himself? As Alistair swam through the muddy water of these thoughts, Morrigan’s voice interrupted Leliana’s humming and brought Alistair and Bridget back to reality.

“It is dusk, we will lose light soon. I suggest we stop and make camp if not here, perhaps a little further into the woods. We do not want to traipse about once the sun has set.” She stated.

Bridget nodded, thankful for a task to take her away from her thoughts.

“Yes, good point. Let’s go ahead and set up here, we can get a fire going and Leliana can search for some more rabbits for us to eat. Then we can,”

Before Bridget could finish her sentence, a blood curdling scream rang throughout the air. The companions drew their weapons as quickly as the sound rang through their ears. Out of the brush, a disheveled woman appeared. Her clothes were common and tattered and she was covered in dirt and blood. Once Bridget noticed she was not armed, she dropped her guard down as the woman ran to her.

“Help! Help me, please! Bandits! They’ve captured and injured my husband and they won’t release my children! I cannot fight them myself, please, I beg of you!”

The woman began to tug on Bridget’s arm to lead her deeper into the woods. Bridget looked over her shoulder as she fell in step with the woman and motioned for her friends to follow her. Bridget and her companions ran after the woman and followed her into a clearing. There was indeed a wagon and the body of a rather burly man that lay dead nearby…but there were no children in sight. Bridget furrowed her brow as she surveyed the area. A glint of metal caught her eye as she noticed archers were perched in the trees. The woman stopped in the middle of the clearing and looked over her shoulder. She smiled wickedly.

“They’re here!”

A slim and lithe figure slinked out of the shadows. The man was elven, with golden hair and sun kissed skin. His eyes were sharp and brown like the earth and he was clad in very fine leather armor that was black as night. A thick cloak hung from his shoulders with a crow’s head pauldron that held it in place. The elf flicked his wrist and removed his cloak, revealing toned and tanned arms, and two deadly daggers fastened at his hips. In a flash, the assassin drew his daggers and clanged them against each other.

“The Grey Wardens die here!” he shouted in a thick, Antivan accent.

Everything happened at once. Bridget could only dwell on the fact that she had fallen and led her companions into a trap for only a moment before the assassin lunged for her. Bridget had just enough time to deflect his blow with her shield, but faltered slightly and stumbled backwards. Alistair charged at the elf and engaged him in combat as Bridget recovered. She looked around at her surroundings as the sickening sound of steel upon steel rang in her ears. Leliana stood nearby firing arrows as quickly as she could draw them to try and eliminate the archers that were hidden within the trees. With every shot she made, a sickening thud was heard as a body fell. Morrigan took on the woman who lured the party within the woods as she realized that she was no innocent bystander, but an apostate.

The two mages shot orbs of magic at each other whilst dodging the other’s attack. Zeus leapt into action and growled at a group of three mercenaries who attempted to advance on Bridget. He jumped forward and knocked back one man and ripped his throat to shreds. Bridget ran to Alistair’s aid and began to attack the assassin as well. He was quick on his feet, almost as if he were dancing with death. He would make precise, calculated strikes that would nearly land on Bridget or Alistair. The attacks had so much strength behind them that it did cause either one or both to falter slightly. The elf’s eyes constantly scanned them for an opening. He flitted about the clearing this way and that, expertly dodging both of their attacks. Bridget felt sweat roll down the side of her face as she felt fatigue grip at her body. Morrigan was still engaged with the apostate and Leliana was helping Zeus while continuing to scan the trees for more hidden archers.

Bridget ran a few feet away as Alistair rammed his shield into the assassin, stumbling him. The elf cursed and sliced his dagger through the air, catching it within Alistair’s chain mail. Luckily for Alistair, his armor blocked the greater part of the blow, and Bridget took the assassin’s stumble as her opportunity to strike. She picked up a rock the size of an apple and reared her arm back. Bridget released the rock and threw it with such precision and accuracy, that it hit the elf in the back of the head, quite hard. Alistair noted that his eyes went cross as he became stunned, then nearly fell to the ground as the full weight of the assassin fell forward onto him. Alistair shoved the body off of him and to the ground. Bridget ran over to him just as Leliana had dispatched the last of the archers and Morrigan finally won against the apostate. She grinned triumphantly as her ice orb finally hit the apostate square in the chest. It froze her on the spot and Morrigan thrust her staff in the ground and smiled satisfactorily as the frozen woman shattered before her. As the friends regrouped, they stood over the body of the elven assassin and frowned.

“Is he dead?” Bridget asked.

Morrigan squinted her eyes and kicked the bottom of the elf’s boot. The elf grunted softly in response but did not move. She shook her head.

“Knocked out only.” She replied.

Alistair wiped his brow with his forearm.

“Should we kill him, then?” he asked.

Bridget thought for a long moment as she stared down at the elf. She shook her head.

“No. Bring him with us to camp, I have a few questions for him.”

The others looked at each other warily and then back to Bridget. She rolled her eyes and removed some rope from her pack.

“We’ll tie him to a tree, he won’t be sitting freely amongst us, not until we’ve had a chance to question him.” She stated.

The others still did not agree with bringing the assassin back to camp at all, but no one argued their opinion. Alistair lifted the elf under his arms while Bridget hoisted his feet. Together, they made their way back to their original camping spot, tied the assassin to the tree, and took turns taking watch over him until he woke up. As Leliana prepared another rabbit stew, Bridget and Alistair stood in front of the elf and looked down at him. Finally, the elf stirred. He came back to conscious slowly and blinked his eyes several times so that they would come back into focus. He stared up at Bridget and drew his brows together.

“Mmm…I must be dreaming. I know I am certainly not going to be with the Maker in his Palace when I die…and yet such a beautiful and ethereal being stands before me. Perhaps I have been forgiven of my sins?” he asked.

Alistair rolled his eyes and snorted.

“The assassin is a poet too?” he asked sarcastically.

Zevran turned his head to contemplate Alistair for a moment and as realization dawned on his face, Alistair couldn’t help but smile.

“I…ah. I see I have failed my mission…hmm. This is not good.” He stated more to himself than anyone else.

As the elf tried to move, he then realized that he was bound and tied to a tree. Alistair smirked as the assassin cursed under his breath and then looked up at him and Bridget.

“I can explain, if you would so graciously offer me the chance.”

Bridget crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“I would like to hear what you have to say.” She stated.

The elf nodded, eager for a chance to prolong his life.

“Yes, yes. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I hail from the beautiful city of Antiva. Formerly, I was a top tier assassin within the Antivan Crows.” He explained.

Alistair tipped his head to the side.

“Formerly?” he asked.

The assassin named Zevran nodded.

“Yes, formerly. You see, when a Crow fails a contract, no matter their rank, they are essentially booted out of the club, as it were. And in turn…the hunter now becomes the hunted.”

Bridget furrowed her brow.

“So, because you failed to kill us, your faction now wants to kill you?” she asked.

Zevran nodded.

“Essentially, yes. So, you may ask me anything you wish! I am obviously your prisoner now and I no longer have any loyalty to the Crows since I failed my contract. I will happily answer anything you wish. Truthfully, might I add.”

Bridget became skeptical.

“Is an assassin capable of telling the truth?”

Zevran shrugged as best as he could within the confines of the rope.

“What do I have to gain if I lie?”

Bridget looked up at Alistair who raised his eyebrows and shrugged. She turned her attention back to Zevran and knelt in front of him.

“Who hired you?” she asked, though Bridget had a very good idea of who it was.

Zevran nodded.

“A sensible question. It was a rather taciturn fellow from the capital…a Teyrn Loghain if I am not mistaken? Though I did not have much contact with him as I did his man, Howe.”

Bridget sucked in a breath at the mention of Howe’s name. This did not go unnoticed by Zevran.

“Ah…my uncanny assassin senses suggest that you know this man?” he asked more than stated.

Bridget broke their eye contact and balled her hands into fists as she looked down at her lap. Her lip trembled as she took a deep breath.

“He was responsible for the murder of my entire family.” She said in anguish.

Alistair frowned sadly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Bridget blinked away her tears and looked up at him. She gave him a small smile and nodded her head in thanks. Zevran raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. Bridget snapped her head forward to look back at him and Alistair placed his hands behind his back and stared up into the tree.

“Are you loyal to Loghain?” Bridget asked quickly.

Zevran looked suspiciously between her and Alistair and shook his head.

“Not at all. I was only loyal by contract through the Crows. And as I have stated, since I failed my contract, I now have a target on my back. An interesting concept…loyalty. If you are quite finished with your interrogation, it is something I would like to discuss further.”

Morrigan and Leliana now joined Bridget and Alistair as Bridget urged Zevran to continue.

“Well, seeing as how my relationship with the Crows is now moot and I was only hired as a puppet to force the will of the man in the capitol, why not let me join your cause? I’m quite skilled at what I do, you know. I can sense traps nearly a mile away, craft poisons to lace your weapons with, and I have been told I am an excellent storyteller among other things!”

Bridget and the others looked at each other absurdly before they all turned their attention back to the assassin.

“Wait. You just tried to murder my friends and I in cold blood, because someone else told you to. Now you expect me to release you and let you join us? You must think I’m royally stupid!” she exclaimed, insulted.

Zevran chuckled.

“Not at all, I think you are highly intelligent, and utterly gorgeous at that. To think that I of all people would be spared by a beautiful, deadly, sex goddess such as yourself.”

Alistair frowned.

“Hold your tongue! You can’t speak to her that way, Bridget’s a lady.” He stated.

Zevran raised his eyebrows and feigned an apology.

“Ah, forgive me. I did not realize that she was your lady.” He replied.

Alistair blushed and stuttered a response.

“W-What? No! She’s not my lady, she’s not anyone’s lady! All I’m trying to say is that she is a lady!”

Zevran turned his attention back to Bridget and smirked as his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“So, the lady is not taken, as it were? Hmm…that is good to know.”

Leliana pursed her lips together to keep from laughing as Alistair stammered an incoherent reply. Bridget drowned out the others’ voices as she stared into the eyes of the assassin. She noticed that he looked hopeful and didn’t see a trace of malice or trickery within them. Bridget sighed as she hoped she made the right decision.

 “Alright, you can come with us.” She stated.

Alistair turned his head so fast he was surprised his neck hadn’t broken. He gaped at Bridget.

“You cannot be serious. We’re bringing the assassin with us?” he asked incredulously.

Bridget withdrew her small dagger and began to cut at the rope that bound Zevran to the tree. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked up at Alistair.

“He could be of use to us. As I said before, I will not turn away help when it is offered. Plus, he knows exactly where Howe and Loghain are. He will be useful when we do venture into Denerim.”

Alistair looked at Zevran warily as the elf was freed from the rope and stretched languidly. He did not share Bridget’s optimism towards their new companion. Zevran bowed graciously and deftly took Bridget’s hand to place a chaste kiss to her fingers.

“My fealty and loyalty are to you, Grey Wardens, until you dismiss me, or I am taken to the underworld. My blades and all of my skills and expertise are at your disposal as you see fit, this I swear.”

Bridget nodded.

“Welcome to the team, then, Zevran.”

As introductions were made, Alistair stewed silently off to the side until Bridget introduced him. He continued to eye Zevran suspiciously, which Zevran noticed instantly.

“Fear not, my friend. You will not have to sleep with one eye open. I may be many things but disloyal after I have sworn myself to a cause is not one of them.” He stated.

Alistair uncrossed his arms and sighed. Perhaps he was being too hard on the elf. Before he could say anything, however, he noticed how Zevran’s eyes glistened when he looked at Bridget and Alistair felt a flame of jealousy light within his chest. He jabbed his finger into Zevran’s shoulder.

“You treat her with respect, okay? She’s our leader and a good woman. I’m watching you.” He warned.

Zevran raised his eyebrows and put up his hands in surrender.

“I only stare because I find her intriguingly beautiful, this is all. If you have already laid claim to her, I promise I will not interfere.”

Alistair blushed and stammered again. Zevran placed his hands on his hips and laughed heartily.

“I think I have my answer. What about the mysterious, dark haired one? I bet I could use my charm to,”

Morrigan looked over at Zevran and cut her eyes menacingly.

“Not on your life, elf. If you wish to keep your tongue, I suggest you swallow the rest of that sentence before you spit it out.”

Zevran closed his lips tightly and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Noted. Ah but what about our red-haired beauty? Is she spoken for; do you know?”

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away without answering Zevran’s question. As Leliana sang softly to herself as she continued to prepare the stew, Zevran sighed happily.

“The voice of a lark, ahh. Let me help you with that stew, my delicate flower!”

Leliana looked up from her work and stared at the licentious elf, albeit a little confused, but did not turn away his help and greatly appreciated him skinning and washing the rabbit and thrusting it onto the spit. Bridget busied herself constructing her tent. Alistair walked over to her and helped her. Bridget looked down at her feet.

“You must be questioning my leadership, letting the assassin join our crew.” She stated.

Alistair looked at her and noted the tired strain in her eyes. He suddenly felt bad four doubting his partner’s decision. Alistair shook his head as he helped her assemble her tent.

“Not at all.” He lied.

Bridget picked right up on that. She chuckled and playfully punched him in the arm. Alistair smiled and cleared his throat nervously.

“Is now a good time…to talk about before?” he asked softly.

Bridget stilled as she felt her nerves clinch inside her stomach. She looked up at Alistair and bit her lip as she stared into his hopeful, honey-colored eyes. Before she could reply, Leliana announced that the stew was ready. Thankfully, Zevran took it upon himself to talk and talk and talk throughout the entire meal that no one could get another word in edge wise. When the sun had finally settled in for the night and the moon shone brightly in the sky, Morrigan suggested that Bridget sleep first and someone else take first watch so that Bridget could get much needed rest.

Zevran volunteered himself for the first watch and Leliana begrudgingly agreed to keep watch with him when he asked if she would. Morrigan retired to her tent without another thought, and before Alistair could hope to catch Bridget again, she quickly bid him a good night and crawled into her tent. Bridget felt guilt spread throughout her heart as she laid back against her bedroll. She had to sort out her thoughts, about her feelings, about what was right and what was wrong. Her heart and mind were shadowed with conflictions that clashed against each other like warriors from opposing sides. Bridget took a swig of the sleeping drought that Morrigan had made for her and was thankful that the potion eased and quieted her mind and allowed her to drift into a dreamless sleep.

Alistair, however, had no sleeping drought and stared up into the top of his tent restlessly. He rolled to his side and reached for his pack. Alistair retrieved the enchanted rose he had plucked in Lothering and placed the flower beneath his nose. The soft petals gently caressed his skin as he took a deep breath to breathe in the fragrance. Such a rare and beautiful thing to be found amidst the darkness of the world. If only he could tell Bridget that he thought the same thing when he looked at her. But who was he kidding? Either one of them could die tomorrow…what would be the point of acting on these budding feelings when the dawn was never promised? Could he ever even truly admit anything to her when he had been so secretive himself? That wouldn’t be fair, she didn’t even know who he truly was…not that that mattered. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to place any more unneeded stress upon his friend. He would keep whatever this was to himself and maybe, if they both survived in the end, then he would say something. But not now, it wasn’t the right time. They had a great task before them that they weren’t any where near completing. May as well save anything else for later, Alistair decided. With that thought in mind he placed the rose carefully back in his pack and closed his eyes, hoping to rest comfortably and serenely, if he could.

xXx

Dawn came quickly. Bridget dipped her hands in the nearby pond and cupped the clear water within her palms. She drank the water slowly and languidly, enjoying the crisp, refreshing taste as it trickled down her dry throat. She took a few more sips and then splashed her face, ridding herself of any lingering sleep that wished to cling to her eyes. Bridget stood and walked back over to the others who were busy packing their things to resume the trek back to Redcliffe once more. Again, Zevran was animatedly chatting with anyone who cared to listen, though Bridget felt as if his words fell upon deaf ears. Morrigan looked more irritated than usual, Leliana was too busy making sure she had all of their cooking supplies sorted and packed, and Alistair played tug of war with Zeus with some of the rope that had been used to tie Zevran to the tree the night before. Bridget smiled to herself as she watched Zeus and Alistair play. She had made no progress on the thoughts that clouded her mind, however, she was determined, for now, to focus on the task at hand. Once everything was packed and ready to go, the party set off once more. The air was cool this morning, the sun obscured by a few clouds. A soft rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

“Oh no, I do hope we make it to wherever it is we’re going before it rains. In Antiva, we always had sunshine. It was not cold and wet like this Ferelden.” Zevran noted.

The other companions said nothing as they continued along the trail through the Hinterlands back to Redcliffe. Zevran, however, made up for the silence and continued to tell tales about his time in Antiva, working with the Crows, and Bridget assumed, his entire life story up to this point. Morrigan gripped her staff and gritted her teeth.

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” she asked exasperatedly.

Zevran chuckled.

“Only when my lips are pressed to another’s, my beautiful mage.”

Bridget bit back a smile as Morrigan made a disgusted noise. The companions continued on and, by that afternoon, they sighed happily as the gates of Redcliffe came back into view.

“I hope Wynne and Irving can save Connor.” Alistair whispered.

Bridget tentatively placed her hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Alistair looked down at her, surprised. They still had not really spoken since the previous day, but then again no one else could really get a word in edge wise with Zevran in their company.

“Have faith, Alistair. I believe Connor will be alright. We did not survive the trials of the tower to fail now, I’m sure of it.” She stated confidently.

Alistair gave her a small smile and slowly moved to pat her hand. Morrigan shoved past them, eager to get into the village.

“Are we just going to stand around having idle chit-chat or are we going to save the demon child? Sometimes I wonder what is more important to you two.” She grumbled.

Both Alistair and Bridget blushed at her words and cleared their throats. The party did not bother to stop in town and instead headed straight for Redcliffe Castle. In the courtyard, they were greeted by the stable hand and taken at once to the main foyer. As Bridget and her friends entered, familiar faces greeted them graciously. Irving and Wynne were present, both knelt over an unconscious Connor’s body as they drew arcane symbols around him in chalk on the stone floor. Isolde stood nearby wringing her hands together and flitted her eyes around the room nervously. Teagan stood with his arms crossed off to the side, watching the mages intently. Jowan had his hands bound behind him and stood in between two heavily armored guards. He looked extremely remorseful. Teagan nodded towards Bridget and her friends as they walked towards the center of the room. He strode towards them briskly and caught them up on the events. Irving and Wynne prepared a potion that they forced Connor to drink to lull him into a dreamlike state where he would be within the Fade. They would both perform an intricate ritual and one of them would go into the Fade to vanquish the demon and save Connor once and for all.

“It is very powerful and very old magic, but I believe we will be successful.” Irving stated.

Bridget looked at the others uneasily. Again, she felt very out of her element with magic being involved, but she trusted Irving and Wynne and knew that they would do all they could to save Connor. Bridget nodded and wished him luck. Wynne stated that she would be the one to go into the Fade. She sat on her knees behind Connor and lifted the child’s head into her lap. She placed her fingertips to either side of his temples and looked up at Irving. She gave him a slight nod.

“I am ready.” She stated.

Irving bowed his head to her and retrieved some salt from his pack. He began to sprinkle it around the symbol that surrounded Connor’s body and began to chant a spell. All the candlelight in the room suddenly vanished as a gust of wind, perhaps conjured by the magic, rushed forward, and doused all the candles in the room. Bridget instinctively reached for Alistair’s hand and gripped it tightly as she watched the scene before her intently. Wynne’s eyes began to glow a bright white as Irving circled her and Connor. He swung his staff in the air in a clockwise motion as he continued to chant the old spell. Bridget caught a glance of Isolde and felt pity for the mother who could do nothing for her child. Isolde leaned onto Teagan for support as she watched Irving and Wynne perform the ritual, helpless. She clasped the amulet at her neck and whispered prayer after prayer to the Maker to keep her son safe. Bridget watched intently and jumped as Connor screamed out. Isolde fell to the floor and whimpered, knowing she could do nothing to help him. In a voice that was not his own, Connor shouted,

“Leave me be! You will not have him! He is mine!”

Wynne replied sharply.

“He is not yours and never was, demon! Release this child and begone! Begone, I say or face the wrath of the old magic!”

Connor screamed again and Bridget closed her eyes shut tightly as his body began to writhe. She turned her head into Alistair’s chest and felt him move his arm around her, as if to shield her. Alistair watched on and noticed that Wynne’s contact with Connor never broke, despite his spasms. Irving continued to chant the spell, his voice boomed throughout the foyer. Connor released one last, guttural cry before his body stilled and suddenly became limp. Isolde released a breath as tears flowed from her eyes. The glow receded from Wynne’s eyes and she slumped forward slightly, but regained her composure quickly. Bridget opened her eyes to stare at the scene before her. Everyone held their breath. Seconds turned to minutes, but no one dared move. Suddenly, Connor took a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open.

“M-Mother? Are you here? What happened?” he said groggily in his own voice.

Isolde shrieked with delight and stumbled over towards Connor. She fell to her knees and enveloped him in her arms, placing kisses all over his forehead and cheeks.

“Oh, my boy, my sweet boy! You live! Oh, Maker above, I thank you and give you praise!”

Everyone around them released a collective sigh of relief. Irving helped Wynne to her feet and pulled her into an embrace. She hugged her friend back warmly and smiled at him.

“I am very much glad that that is over.” She stated.

Alistair sighed happily and looked down at Bridget. She wiped away a tear and looked up at him. She gave him a relieved smile as another tear fell from her eyes. Alistair fought the urge to wipe her tears away and only nodded towards her. Bridget turned her attention back to Isolde and Connor and slowly stepped towards them. Isolde rocked her son in her arms and continued to whisper her thanks to the Maker. When she noticed Bridget, she bowed her head in thanks.

“I do not even want to know what would have happened had you not come here. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You saved my son and our home. Redcliffe is forever in your debt.” She whispered.

Teagan moved to stand near Bridget.

“Let us check on Eamon. Saving Connor may have broken whatever spell is over him.” He stated.

Unfortunately, this was not the case. Sometime later, Bridget, Alistair, Teagan, and Isolde stood by Eamon’s bedside. The Arl’s skin was pallid and shined with sweat. His breathing was shallow and barely audible. Teagan ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“So…this was not completely resolved with eradicating the demon.”

Isolde sat by her husband’s bedside and squeezed out a wet cloth that floated in a bowl atop his bedside table. She gently pressed the cloth to his face lovingly. Eamon did not stir.

“What can we do then? If magic will not save Eamon, what will?” Alistair asked.

The others were quiet for a moment before Isolde sucked in a breath and turned to face Bridget. She placed the cloth back to the bowl and stood. She reached for Bridget’s hands and took them in hers.

“The Urn. The Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon, I’m sure of it.” She stated.

Teagan groaned.

“Isolde, we have been over this. No one knows if the Urn truly exists. We have already lost over half of our knights on this quest who have yet to return. We cannot ask this of the Wardens, we will all fall to the Blight while they are about chasing miracles!” he exclaimed angrily.

Isolde shot her gaze to him and stuck her chin out in defiance.

“You must think me stupid, brother, but I am not. I am a pious woman, yes, who greatly believes in my faith. I believed that the Maker would send someone to save Connor and our village, and He did just that. I have no doubt in my mind that this woman before me is more than capable of locating the Urn.”

Bridget kindly patted Isolde’s hands as the Arlessa turned her attention back to her.

“Lady Isolde, I am humbled by your faith in me, but I am not so sure I can meet the expectations of this task. I fear you may believe in me too much.” She stated.

Isolde shook her head.

“Not at all. If anyone can find the Urn, it’s you, Lady Cousland.”

Bridget sighed as Isolde squeezed her hands before she released her and returned to Eamon’s bedside. Leliana and Connor appeared at the door, having returned from picking flowers in the garden. Connor brought the flowers to Eamon’s bed side and stood in a silent vigil with his mother. Teagan noted the conflict within Bridget’s eyes and placed his hand upon her shoulder.

“A word?” he whispered in her ear.

Bridget nodded and turned to follow Teagan out of the room. Alistair started after her, that jealous feeling rising in his chest once more, but stopped himself and turned his attention back to Eamon. He was sure whatever Teagan had to say, Bridget would relay to him later. Still, the thought of her being alone with him just did not sit right within his heart. Bridget followed Teagan into a nearby study. He closed the door behind them and eyed Bridget carefully.

“I noticed how uncomfortable you were in there. Feel free to unleash your frustrations here, you will not be judged.” He offered.

Bridget sighed graciously and slumped into a nearby chair. Teagan took the seat across the ornate desk and stared at her. Bridget looked behind him and noticed the large portrait of whom she assumed was Eamon in his younger days. His study reminded her so much of her father’s. Bridget wistfully shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I am no herald of miracles, Teagan. What Isolde asks is much more than I can offer, I am afraid.”

Teagan nodded understandably.

“I agree, Milady. As I have stated, Isolde is a very pious woman where I stand on the more practical side of things. However, this is our only lead. I know you have a mountain of other problems and worries…but you have taught me that in this bleak and desolate world, hope is still very much alive. I have hope in you, Bridget. Although this sounds completely insane, Isolde is right. Out of anyone, you probably are the only person who is capable of locating the Urn.”

Bridget sighed as she rested her back against the chair.

“But where would I even begin? No one knows where it’s located. What if it’s all the way across Ferelden? Can we afford to make that journey with the Darkspawn still growing by the second and laying siege to anything that moves?”

Teagan rustled through some documents atop Eamon’s desk and found a tattered scroll. He leaned over the table and handed it to Bridget. She took it from him and skimmed over the quick hand that had written it.

“There is a monk located in Denerim, his name is Brother Genitivi. He was looking into the whereabouts of the Urn before all this mess started. He is a great scholar and a trusted friend. He is your best starting point.”

Bridget frowned as nerves slowly crept into her stomach. Denerim. Loghain was there. Howe was there. She did not know if she was ready to face them, or more importantly, if she could keep her presence within the capitol a secret long enough to hunt down Genitivi without them being any the wiser. Bridget buried her face in her hands.

“Teagan, I feel as if the entire weight of the world sits upon my shoulders. What if there is no Urn? What if Eamon dies before I can locate it if it even exists? Is Ferelden destined to fall into civil war on top of the Blight? We’ll end up killing each other before the Darkspawn can ensnare us!”

Teagan drew his brows together and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“What are you asking?” he inquired slowly.

Bridget looked at him and shook her head.

“If Eamon dies, that’s it, right? He’s the only one who could take the throne, and his claim is only through marriage since he was Maric’s brother-in-law. Is that even strong enough to stand up in the Landsmeet? What will we do without a king?” she asked softly as she blinked back frustrated tears.

Teagan held his breath for a moment as he stared at her. Maker…she did not know. Why had Alistair not told her? What could he hope to gain from keeping Bridget in the dark? Teagan folded his hands in front of his face as he filtered through the thoughts in his head. This was not his story to tell, not his place to reveal this information and yet…could he trust Alistair to do so? Teagan eyed Bridget and sighed sadly. He felt that she may not take this news very well…so better that it did come from Alistair himself…but would he tell her? That question lingered in his mind. Teagan stood and cleared his throat.

“It must be nearing dusk, and I can still hear thunder in the distance. It has been too long since you and your companions have had a proper meal and an actual bed to sleep in. Allow me to offer you shelter for the night, I can have the kitchen staff cook a fine meal and you will be able to bathe and rest for the journey ahead. Let me offer you this in thanks for risking everything that you did to save Connor.”

Bridget drew her brows together. She knew that she and her friends needed to press on, especially now that they had yet another task set before them, but the thought of a hot warm meal, bath, and a feather stuffed mattress spoke to her in a volume that she could not ignore.

Bridget bowed her head in thanks.

“That sounds lovely, Teagan. Thank you. We will graciously accept.”

Teagan smiled. He then reached for the top drawer in the desk and gave it a gentle tug. He pulled the drawer out and retrieved an amulet. The silver glinted beautifully in the candlelight. Teagan held it out to Bridget. Her eyes widened as she felt Teagan was being a little forward to bestow such a gift upon her, but as she looked at the amulet closely, it looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh, is that Alistair’s mother’s amulet?” she asked.

Teagan nodded.

“Yes, please return it to him on Eamon’s behalf, if you would. He repaired it some time ago but was never able to return it. I’m sure Alistair will appreciate it.”

Bridget smiled and nodded. She carefully placed the amulet in her pack.

“I will go and tell the others about our plans. Thank you again, Teagan. I truly appreciate it.”

Teagan stood and placed his hands behind his back. He smiled kindly as Bridget exited the room. After she left, Teagan moved to stand near the paned window. He looked up into the sky and noticed the dark clouds floating through the air. Another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Teagan took a deep breath and sighed. He did not wish to be the one to tell Bridget about Alistair’s past, but something told him that Alistair would not reveal his secret to her…and she had every right to know. Still, the discourse that it would most likely cause between the two friends is what made Teagan so hesitant.

However, he felt as if he were doing the right thing and decided that before Bridget and her companions set off once more that he would tell her everything. That Alistair was not just a bastard child of two forgotten, common souls…but the child of King Maric Theirin…that he was Cailan’s half brother and now, the sole surviving member of the Theirin bloodline. Bastard or no, Theirin blood flowed through is veins and with it, a birth and Maker given right to ascend the throne of Ferelden and become king. Whether he would accept this as his destiny would be another question entirely, but this was the undeniable truth. And Teagan felt that above all else, Bridget should be given that kindness to know that truth. His mind made up, Teagan turned on his heel and headed for the kitchens to alert the staff of the meal that would be needed. He would find a way to reveal this information without interruption, he swore to himself. She had a right to know and after everything Bridget had done for Redcliffe, everything she had done for his family, Teagan swore that he would do anything to make sure that she knew the truth. He owed her that much. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Hidden Truth

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Redcliffe Castle

Sometime later as their rooms and the meal for supper were being prepared, Bridget stood in the library with her friends, a map of Ferelden spread out across the table in front of them. The storm still had not started yet, but the clouds were continuing to roll in and thunder drummed softly in the distance. Alistair stole a glance at Bridget and frowned sadly. She looked frazzled and at her wits end, wrought with worry. How he wished there was something he could do to alleviate her suffering! He glanced at the map and chewed the inside of his cheek. She had mentioned briefly to him that Denerim may be their next stop, but he could not imagine why they would put themselves in that kind of danger until she revealed the information Teagan had given earlier.

Unfortunately, Genitivi was their only lead on the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and he was in Denerim. Unless they left Eamon to die, there was really no choice but to set course for the capitol at once. Bridget stared at the map pensively. Her arms were crossed, and a notch was set between her brow, as it often did when she was deep in thought. She looked at her companions warily and all of them looked as worried as she felt. Morrigan was the first to break the silence as she gestured at the map and scoffed.

“I do not feel that this is wise. I have offered my opinion freely when I felt I needed to do so, and I offer it again. This is madness. You are both wanted for treason, and you are going to waltz right into the capitol? All for this man who we do not even know will truly help us or if he will wake? You have strayed us too far from our task for too long, Warden. You cannot save everyone. The Darkspawn are the real threat. We are wasting valuable time! And what happens if you two are captured when we arrive at the capitol? What then? Do we just sit idly by and wait for the Darkspawn to swallow us up?”

Bridget winced at Morrigan’s words. Alistair frowned.

“If you had a heart to begin with you might would understand our predicament.” He grumbled.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and said something inaudible under her breath, though Bridget was sure she called Alistair an ass. Morrigan cast her eyes back to Bridget and pursed her lips together.

“All I am saying is this, we need to weigh what and who is more important. The Darkspawn are growing in number every day, we cannot dally much longer!”

Bridget pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I am aware of that, Morrigan! But we need Eamon. He is the only one capable of stepping forward in the Landsmeet to try and take the throne from Loghain’s clutches. If we do not have him, then we will fall into civil war. We will kill each other before the Darkspawn ever have the chance.” She snapped.  

Alistair shifted his weight uncomfortably. He was running out of time, and he knew it. He had to tell Bridget about his past. He cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back. Morrigan raised her brow, surprised that Bridget had lashed out. Leliana shook her head and tried to bring the argument to a close with a sensible statement.

“Arguing about this will not solve anything. What will we do?”

Bridget braced both of her hands on the table and studied the map intently. On foot, it would take about a week’s journey to reach the city gates and that was dependent upon ideal travel conditions. Traveling to the city would not be the issue…it would be sneaking into the city and remaining undetected whilst within it’s walls that Bridget was most concerned about. She shot her gaze at Zevran.

“Zev, you were in Denerim recently…what was it like when you were there?” she asked.

Zevran, who had not been paying much attention to the conversation and was instead taking the time to study one of his daggers closely, immediately jumped at the chance to offer his opinion.

“Hmm…I did not tarry in the capitol for long as I was on strict business,”

“That strict business being contracted to kill us?” Alistair interjected.

Zevran looked at Alistair and frowned.

“Yes, indeed that was in the past. However, I may be able to put your minds at ease. I have not met a city yet that I could not sneak into and out of. Walls may keep out regular folk, but an Antivan Crow? It is child’s play. No city is impenetrable, at least, not for me. When we arrive, how about I scout the walls? I’m sure there are cracks and depressions…somewhere where we can sneak in without alerting the guards. I suggest we only take a small team, perhaps myself, you, and Alistair. We will need to be quick. Your faces are most likely plastered upon every wall in the city. Heavy cloaks and scarves, something to conceal your hair and faces, that will probably come in handy. We can do this; we just must take the appropriate measures to ensure that we make it out alive.”

Bridget nodded towards him and glanced back at the map. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves. She wasn’t happy about going into Denerim either, but they had no choice. Genitivi was the only scholar in Ferelden who knew anything about the whereabouts of the Urn. It was a risk she was willing to take. As she declared their meeting over, her friends each left the library one by one, hoping that their rooms were ready so that they could freshen up and prepare for the grand meal that evening. Only Alistair remained behind after everyone else had left. Bridget sighed as she rolled her shoulders back, trying to ease the tension she felt within them. Alistair glanced out the window and noted the storm had not arrived just yet. He turned his attention back to Bridget and blurted out,

“Would you like to go on a walk?”

Bridget turned and looked at him. Alistair tried not to look too hopeful and gave her a nonchalant shrug as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Fresh air and what not…it might do you some good, you know?”

Bridget gave Alistair a small smile. She did wish to see Pandora and Pyoris again and give them an apple each to thank them for delivering Irving and Wynne safely to Redcliffe. She agreed and the two set off. They stopped in the kitchens to retrieve the apples, the smell of the fresh bread, meat, cheeses, and vegetables made both of their mouths water and their stomachs grumble. They quickly left the kitchens before they wished to devour everything in sight and Alistair led the way to the stables. The stableboy from before was busy at work raking hay within the horses’ stalls. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm as Bridget and Alistair approached. Upon seeing them, he dropped his rake and bowed graciously.

“Grey Wardens! Um…welcome to Redcliffe Stables. I…my name is Jonas. Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked nervously.

Bridget chuckled and shook her head.

“No, I just wished to give a little gift to Pandora and Pyoris, if that’s okay?”

Jonas went a little slack jawed as he glanced at the woman in front of him, then nodded eagerly and cleared his throat.

“Um yes, of course! Feel free! If you wish to take Pandora for a ride, I’m sure Bann Teagan will not mind! He told me that you were welcome here any time!” he exclaimed.

Alistair frowned slightly at this little tidbit of information. As Bridget politely declined the offer and walked towards Pandora’s stall, Alistair placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.

“Why don’t you take a short break, there’s fresh bread in the kitchen.” He suggested.

Alistair bit back a smile as the boy’s eyes grew wide in hunger. He nodded, promised that he wouldn’t be gone for long, and hurried away. Alistair chuckled as Jonas reminded him slightly of his younger self. He turned his attention back to Bridget and felt himself smile warmly as he gazed at her. Despite the bleak and cloudy atmosphere, Bridget was like a ray of sunshine. Her hair always seemed to gleam no matter what, along with her vibrant personality. Alistair watched as she approached Pandora slowly. Bridget bowed graciously to the magnificent war horse. Pandora bowed in return and neighed as she recognized Bridget’s scent. The horse blew hot air out of her nose as Bridget gently offered the bright red apple to her. Pandora took it eagerly and nudged Bridget’s hand lovingly as she ate it.

Pyoris, not to be forgotten, stamped his hooves and snorted loudly. Bridget chuckled as she turned her attention to him and offered another red apple. Pyoris sniffed it cautiously, not as trusting as his sister, but gobbled the apple quickly and neighed his thanks. In a show of flair and style, he shook his head to scatter his black mane. He snorted and neighed proudly as Bridget laughed and petted his snout. As Alistair continued to look on, he allowed himself to slip into a daydream. He imagined that they were on horseback together along the coast of Highever. His arms were wrapped tightly around Bridget’s waist as they galloped along the sea’s edge, splashing water and sand all around them. As the air whipped through their hair, they laughed heartily as the horse neighed in complacency. Bridget pulled back on the reigns and slowed their gallop to a canter, then a trot, until the horse stopped completely. Alistair dismounted carefully and placed his hands on Bridget’s hips to help her off the horse, although he knew she didn’t need it. He held her close as he set her feet firmly on the sand. She stared up at him and grinned, eyes sparkling, and she looked beautiful as ever. Alistair rested his forehead against hers as she tilted her face up to him. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as their lips were merely inches apart…

“Alistair? Did you hear me?”

Alistair blinked his eyes and snapped suddenly back to reality. He looked down at Bridget and blushed furiously.

“Ah…no I’m sorry I…I wasn’t paying attention.”

Bridget tipped her head to the side.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

Alistair nodded and cleared his throat.

“Yep, yes. Fine.” He stammered.

He shook his head and inquired what Bridget had said. She moved to stand next to him so she could look at Pandora and Pyoris and sighed as she repeated her statement.

“It will be dangerous, going into Denerim. I had asked you if you thought I had made the best decision. I understand where Morrigan is coming from, I do but…Eamon is Ferelden’s future. Our home rests on his shoulders and if he dies…”

Bridget swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. She didn’t want to imagine the turmoil and chaos that would ensue if Eamon did not recover. Alistair was quiet for a moment as he stared at the two, proud horses. His hand moved of its own accord and gently brushed Bridget’s fingers. She didn’t move or pull away. Their fingers gently grazed each other as Alistair said,

“Don’t listen to her. You’re doing the right thing. You have my full support, always.”

A docile breeze blew and caught Bridget’s hair for a moment. Alistair noted her small smile and ever so gently held her fingers with his.  Again, Bridget didn’t pull away. She took a deep breath and sighed.

“I’ve always loved the smell of the air just before a storm. Something about knowing that the rains will come and cleanse away the darkness…if only they could wash away the Darkspawn and all our problems.” She said wistfully.

 This was the perfect moment, they were alone, he could tell her everything without interruption. Alistair took a shaky breath.

“May I tell you something?” he asked softly.

Bridget felt a blush creep into her cheeks as the nerves in her stomach bunched up once again. She could not find her voice and only nodded in response. She felt Alistair’s hand close securely around hers and squeeze slightly.

“You may.” She replied, a little breathless.

Alistair took a deep breath and released it slowly. He refused to look at her for the moment in case his heart betrayed his mind and he revealed something else entirely.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but I was unsure of how you would react. But…I find that I cannot keep this to myself any longer. I need to tell you.”

Bridget felt her heart slam against her rib cage like a dwarven hammer upon steel. She had resigned herself to not give any more thought to the things she felt when she was around Alistair, at least not now. However, she would be lying to herself if the thought of him possibly admitting that he felt something for her didn’t leave her a little giddy on the inside. She bit her lip and waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say. She turned to face him. Alistair looked nervous as Bridget searched his eyes and tried to discern the emotion held within them. Their hands were still touching. When Alistair looked as if he would not go on, Bridget squeezed his hand and urged him to continue. Alistair sighed.

“Bridget…I…Maker, I’m not sure how to word this.”

Bridget raised her eyebrows expectantly. She tentatively placed her other hand on his chest.

“Let your heart guide you.” She whispered.

Alistair shot his gaze at her and swallowed nervously. He opened his mouth to reply, and just as he did so, a large clap of thunder sounded over head and the skies opened to unleash a torrential downpour. Bridget yelped at the sudden, cold rain and she and Alistair made a dash back to the castle. They splashed mud up all around them and passed Jonas as the poor boy shoved an entire piece of bread into his mouth as he ran back to the stables. Upon entering the great hall, Alistair closed the large doors behind them as Bridget caught her breath. They were both soaked to the bone. Teagan came around the corner and stopped abruptly as he noticed them both.

“That storm finally decided to begin.” Bridget stated dryly.

Teagan shook his head as he tried not to laugh. Two elven servants appeared behind him and bowed graciously.

“Well, your rooms are ready. These two ladies will take you to them. I shall see you both at dinner.”  

With that said, Teagan continued and disappeared into the adjacent room. Alistair and Bridget glanced at each other and tried not to laugh. Bridget slid the wet hair from her forehead and cast an awkward glance at Alistair. Before she could say anything, however, the elven maid took her hand and began to escort her to her rooms. Bridget looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a small smile before she and the maid climbed the stone staircase and disappeared into the upper level of the castle. Alistair sighed grumpily and followed the other elf to his own room. He didn’t understand why when he had the perfect opportunity to reveal his past, the Maker decided then to dump such a ridiculous amount of rain from the sky! Alistair frowned at his misfortune but perked up considerably once he saw the hot bath waiting for him. A fresh pair of clean clothes laid across his four-poster bed. The elf left Alistair to bathe and rejoined her companion in the hall, where they rushed back to the kitchens to finish preparing the meal.

In her own room, Bridget was already nestled within her large water basin. She had sunk down low to where the water was nearly over the tip of her nose and basked in the comfort the steaming water provided to her aching muscles. She had been provided an array of oils and perfumes to enhance the scent of her bath. Bridget had chosen lavender, as she remembered her mother always stating that lavender could heal the weariest of hearts. Bridget closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she submerged herself completely under water. She was almost sure Alistair had meant to tell her his feelings earlier and couldn’t have been more frustrated with nature in the exact moment the rains decided to fall. As she reemerged and took a deep breath, she ran her hand down her face and blinked away the lingering water droplets. As Bridget poured rose hip oil into her hand to run through her hair, she pondered the idea of Alistair catching up with her after the meal to reveal what he wished to say, though she knew him well enough to know that once his perceived moment of opportunity had past, he would not be willing to bring it up again right away.

Bridget rinsed her hair and, after she gave herself a good scrub twice over, she stood and grabbed a fresh towel to dry herself off. Bridget wrapped herself in the towel once she was dry and sat in front of the fireplace in her room. A fire blazed within, and she sat with her hairbrush and ran it throughout her hair, releasing all the tangles and knots as the heat from the fire began to dry it. A gentle knock at the door pulled Bridget from her thoughts. It was the sweet elven maid from earlier, she came in and curtsied politely.

“Beg pardon, my lady, but the Lady Isolde wished me to deliver this dress to you for the dinner tonight. She said that she has never worn it and thought it would suit you more. I can help you get dressed if you like.”

Bridget smiled and nodded. She stood and allowed the maid to help her into the dress. It was a simple, velvet dress of a deep forest green. Gold thread lined the cuffs of the sleeves and the square neckline. Bridget looked at herself in the floor length mirror and sighed sadly. The last time she had worn a dress was the night her family was murdered. It almost felt like another world. She felt foreign in the feminine attire, so used to wearing tunics and leggings under her armor, she almost felt like an imposter. But as the maid fixed a braid in her hair, Bridget lifted her head and squared her shoulders.

She was a Teyrn’s daughter, after all. She thanked the maid as she left and cast her eyes over her reflection once more. As she decided that she was satisfied with her appearance, Bridget stood from where she sat in front of the vanity. She decided she would venture downstairs towards the dining hall and moved to open the door to her room. Bridget stopped abruptly as she walked right into Alistair, who was standing outside of her door, poised to knock. She stumbled backwards ever so slightly, and Alistair caught her by her elbows to steady her.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were standing there.” She stated awkwardly.

Alistair cast his gaze over his companion briefly. He had never seen her in finery before, and the soft velvet dress suited Bridget nicely. The forest green made the blue of her eyes pop even more than usual. The dress was well fitted for her shape and Alistair cleared his throat and looked away bashfully. He released her arms and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sorry! I um, just wanted to know if you wanted to accompany me to the dining hall. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”

Bridget giggled softly as she nodded her head. Alistair was clad in a burgundy tunic with dark brown breeches. As Bridget encircled her arm with his and rested her hand on his forearm, she gently played with the fabric beneath her fingertips. They were quiet as they began to walk down the stone floor, and Bridget realized they were walking very slowly. Alistair swallowed nervously and said,

“You look…nice. And your hair it…it smells really…um…nice also.”

Bridget bit back a smile and swallowed the chuckle that formed in her throat. She looked up at Alistair with those ever-sparkling eyes and replied,

“I could say the same for you.”

Alistair gave her a lopsided grin and opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Zevran appearing out of nowhere. He smirked at the two of them and crossed his arms as he tipped his head to the side.

“My dear, you look radiant. As if a piece of the sun itself has fallen to Thedas and nestled within your golden locks. Exquisite.” Zevran moved so fast Alistair didn’t even realize that he had taken Bridget’s other hand and deftly placed his lips to her fingers. Bridget looked away, a little embarrassed. Alistair frowned and grew even more irritated when the blasted elf winked at him. Zevran pulled away and bowed graciously.

“I just wondered; may I borrow a moment of your time?”

Bridget cast her gaze up to Alistair briefly before she turned her attention back to Zevran.

“I suppose.” She stated.

Zevran smiled warmly.

“I just wanted to properly thank you for trusting me and allowing me to join your cause. I very much meant what I said, once my fealty is sworn, it is not broken. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me till the very end. I just hope that I prove worthy of your trust in me. I do not wish to fail you.”

Bridget gave Zevran a small smile.

“You won’t, Zevran. Don’t sell yourself so short.”

Zevran shrugged.

“I suppose I should not. I did fetch a pretty penny when I was sold to the Crows as a child. I must have something going for me if they were willing to part with as much gold as they did to secure me.”

Bridget looked at Zevran, horrified.

“You were sold to your faction?” she asked.

Zevran shook his head.

“It’s not quite what you’re thinking, no need to fret. I was raised in a whorehouse, my mother died giving birth to me. My first victim, as it were. Anyways, the whores raised me, and taught me how to pickpocket and steal. I learned quite many tricks from them that I still use to this day. But when I was a child…the Crows came through looking for recruits so to say and, I suppose I caught their eye. I have been with them ever since, until now, of course.”

Bridget drew her brows together in sympathy.

“Zevran, that’s horrible!” she exclaimed.

Zevran shot her a cunning glance and then feigned sadness. He placed his arm to his forehead and sighed dramatically.

“Oh yes, I have quite the tragic backstory. I’m getting teary eyed just thinking about it! Mind if I cry into your bosom?”

Alistair groaned and rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be leaving now.” He stated sharply.

Zevran placed his hands on his hips and chuckled heartily.

“I was only joking! I would never presume to do that of my own accord, not without the lady’s permission, of course! Are you heading to the dining hall? Mind if I join you? I am absolutely famished! I could eat a horse!”

“And with any luck choke on a bone.” Alistair grumbled.

Bridget snorted slightly and smiled up at Alistair. He gave her a small smile in return. Zevran continued to jabber on animatedly until they eventually made it to the dining hall. The aroma of all the food that the kitchen staff prepared was overwhelmingly pleasant. Cooked turkeys, and chickens lay atop silver platters along the long dining table. With one platter sitting on the floor so Zeus could dine finely as well. Freshly baked breads and pastries adorned smaller platters along with bowls of stew, gravy, a cheese platter, an assortment of cooked vegetables and fruits. Potatoes, squash, carrots, it was enough to make anyone’s mouth water!

The meal was almost fit for a royal company! Bridget’s companions began to trickle in one by one until eventually, everyone was seated. After Isolde blessed the food, everyone began to converse as they filled their plates. Bridget’s stomach growled hungrily as she filled her plate with turkey, potatoes, vegetables, and bread. She hadn’t eaten this fine since before everything had happened. While Leliana’s rabbit stew wasn’t bad, Bridget had certainly missed eating at a table and having a variety of foods to choose from. Bridget sat at one end of the table whilst Teagan sat at the other end. He watched her eat and enjoy her food and wine. She smiled at him and nodded her head in thanks. He lifted his goblet and nodded at her in kind. Alistair sat to Bridget’s right and Zevran to her left. Her other companions had filled the other chairs and were talking amongst themselves. Irving cut into his meat delicately and cast his eyes to Isolde.

“My lady, I know that you are aware that Connor will have to live at the Circle now that his magical abilities have unearthed. Fear not!” he added quickly as Isodle’s eyes began to well with tears as she put her arm around Connor.

“The Circle is still in disarray, and it makes no sense to take the child when the Blight is still upon us. However, as he is vulnerable by no fault of his own to demons, I ask if I may place someone I trust to remain here with him to watch over him and perhaps even begin teaching him a few basic techniques?”

Isolde looked at Teagan, warry to fully trust another mage coming into their halls considering the havoc Jowan had unleashed. Teagan nodded his head and took a long draw from his goblet. Once he swallowed, he looked at Irving.

“A fine idea indeed.” He stated.

Irving bowed his head and cast his eyes back to Isolde.

“I will return to the Tower tomorrow and send my ward upon my arrival. He is very trustworthy and should provide great insight for Connor.”

Isolde blinked away her tears and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, First Enchanter.”

Wynne leaned forward at that moment and called out to Bridget.

“Speaking of travels. If I may be so bold, milady, I would like to accompany you on your journey. You have seen my skills and I believe I will be an asset to you. I believe in your goodness, Lady Cousland, and I wish to help you save any that you can. If you will have me, I am yours.”

Morrigan frowned again at the thought of yet another body joining the party but, for once, kept her opinion to herself. Bridget cast a glance to Irving who chuckled and waved his hand, dismissively.

“Need not ask my permission, Warden. Wynne would go with you even if I dared to forbid it!” he exclaimed.

The companions chuckled and Bridget officially welcomed Wynne to the party. She took a few moments to introduce the others to her, as introductions before had been short and brief. As Bridget did this, the dining hall doors banged open loudly. Everyone turned to see a messenger, soaked to the bone with rainwater burst in and run straight to Teagan. Once he stood by his chair, he bowed quickly and thrust a tattered envelope at Teagan.

“Beg pardon, my lord. But you need to read this.”

Tegan searched the man’s eyes and noticed the worry and pain clouded within. He offered him a seat and some hot food as he opened the letter. Bridget drew her brows together and watched Teagan intently. She noticed a flicker of grief cross his face before he shut his eyes closed and crumpled the paper in his hands. The air grew still as everyone hushed and Bridget felt the cold chill of dread slip into her bones.

“What is it, Teagan?” she asked softly.

Teagan looked at her and frowned sadly. All the eyes in the room were on him. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“Lothering has…fallen. Darkspawn have taken over the village and burned it to the ground. All the villagers and refugees…they are dead.” He whispered in anguish.

Leliana gasped as she placed her hand over her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She had left friends behind at the Chantry there and now she knew she would never see them again. Alistair glanced at Bridget and noticed all the color had drained from her face. She looked down at her plate of food and pushed it away, disgusted with herself. A moment of respite…what could one night of relaxation do…and the entire village was destroyed. Bridget shook her head.

“This is my fault. We must leave at once and look for survivors!” she exclaimed.

Teagan stood; his chair scratched against the wooden floor loudly.

“There are no survivors, my lady.” He stated sadly.

Bridget’s lip trembled as she looked at him. She then cast her eyes to Alistair when she felt his hand gently brush hers. He squeezed her hand very lightly and looked mournful. Teagan strode quickly over to Bridget. He wedged himself between her and Alistair and took her hand in his, much to Alistair’s annoyance.

“I must excuse myself to write to the other Banns and inform them of what has happened. The storm is too fierce for you to travel tonight and all of you need rest. Please, stay for a few hours and then we may regroup.”

Bridget nodded but furrowed her brow slightly as she felt Teagan slip something into her palm. It felt like a small piece of paper. He squeezed her hand and kissed it softly and gave her a look that she interpreted to keep his message a secret for now. He bid everyone a good night and hurried to Eamon’s study. Bridget deftly placed the small strip of paper within her pocket and stood along with her companions. The jovial meal forgotten, they each forlornly filed out of the dining hall one by one and went back to their rooms. Alistair accompanied Bridget to her room once more and bid her a good night. He could think of nothing to say that could comfort her. But squeezed her hand gently once more as she stared up at him with tear filled eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” He whispered.  

Bridget felt her lip tremble as tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She pressed her face into Alistair’s chest and shook with sobs. Alistair hugged her back and ran his hand down her hair. His other, he placed at the small of her back and held her close.

“All those people…the children…” Bridget sputtered.

Alistair said nothing but continued to hold her close. He rested his chin atop her head and swayed her ever so slightly to comfort her. After a moment, Bridget’s sobs receded, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Of their own accord, her fingertips gently traced short lines up and down his shoulder blades. They remained in each other’s arms for a moment until they pulled apart and stared into each other’s eyes. Alistair wiped away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

“We can only do so much, you know? If anything, let this tragedy strengthen our resolve and further our cause.” Alistair said softly.

Bridget nodded and sighed. Suddenly, she remembered the amulet Teagan had given her.

“I forgot, there’s something I need to give you. Give me a moment.”

Bridget turned and left Alistair, albeit a little confused, standing in the doorway to her room. She returned minutes later and handed him his mother’s amulet. Alistair recognized it instantly and gingerly took it in his hands.

“Where did you find this?” he asked softly.

Bridget explained Teagan had given it to her earlier when he told her about Genitivi. She said that Eamon had repaired it sometime ago and meant to give it to him. Alistair smiled as he stared down at the necklace. He ran his thumb over Andraste’s holy symbol.

“I can’t believe you remembered me mentioning this…that was some time ago.” He said, amazed.

Bridget gave him a shy smile and shrugged.

“Of course, I remembered…you’re special to me.” She replied.

Alistair wasn’t sure if she had meant to say that or not, but that wasn’t the point. She said it regardless. He grinned and closed his hand around the amulet.

“Thank you. I’ll do a much better job of keeping it safe this time.”

After an awkward moment, they both bid each other a good night. Bridget closed her door and listened as Alistair’s footsteps receded until she could no longer hear him. She sat on the edge of her bed where a candle burned on the bedside table and hastily removed the small note from her pocket.

Meet me in the library once everyone is asleep. There is something we must discuss.

Bridget furrowed her brow. She was unsure of what it was Teagan wished to discuss and had a sour feeling about all the secrecy that surrounded it. She waited for a time before she decided to venture back to the library. The castle was still at this hour, even the maids had turned in for the night. Thunder boomed loudly outside, and the wind and rain rattled the paned windows. Bridget shivered, though not because she was cold. There was an ominous feel to the air that didn’t sit right with the young Warden. As she maneuvered through the halls, the sense of dread that entered her stomach earlier grew.

Bridget took a deep breath as she stood outside the doors to the library. She pushed the door open and closed it gently behind her. Teagan stood in front of the windows, watching the storm rage outside. There was minimal light in the room, save for the fire crackling in the fireplace and a lone candle on the desk the map had been spread across earlier. Teagan turned to face Bridget as she approached him. She looked at him quizzically. He looked very distressed, his hair was disheveled from running his hand through it so much and the fine lines of his face appeared deeper than usual. Teagan bowed his head.

“I beg your pardon for the secrecy, milady. I knew no other way to ask you to meet me privately.” He stated.

Bridget shook her head, she just wanted answers.

“Why did you ask me here?” she asked warily.

Teagan sighed. He took a sip from his goblet atop the table and returned it.

“Firstly, I want you to know that there was nothing you could do to save Lothering. It was by no means a formidable city, but a quaint, countryside village. It’s defenses were minimal and this was bound to happen. Please do not let it tear away at your heart.” He explained.

Bridget covered her eyes with her hands and ran them down her face.

“I just feel as if I have let so many people down. Contrary to popular belief, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’m only twenty years old! The weight of the world is upon my shoulders, and everyone expects so much of me! I am only one person! I don’t know how much more I can bear!” she shouted.

Teagan allowed her to vent her frustrations. As Bridget continued, he listened intently.

“I feel as though even more people will be let down if Eamon dies. As I said before, I am no herald of miracles! What happens when Loghain starts another war with Orlais? We will kill each other and then what’s left of us, the Darkspawn will take! I don’t know if I can do this, Teagan. And if Eamon dies I…I don’t think I will be able to forgive myself. He is the future of our very country. I,”

Teagan held up a hand and Bridget quieted. He looked at her keenly, opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and turned his head to look back towards the window as he released a disgruntled sigh.

“What if I told you that there was another candidate for the throne? Someone with even greater claim than Eamon?” he asked slowly.

Bridget blinked, surprised.

“I wasn’t aware that Cailan and Anora had any children…but they would have to be a baby, not even one yet.”

Teagan shook his head solemnly.

“Not a child. A brother. A half-brother, born in secret. Kept away from the public and the castle for his protection.”

Bridget gaped at Teagan and then rolled her eyes in frustration.

“Is he aware of his heritage, his past? Where does he even live? How could this possibly be true? And even if it were, this is unfair to me, Teagan. You have already tasked me with finding a miracle, I cannot search for a ghost as well!” she cried.

Tegan regarded her sympathetically and stroked his goatee.

“He is no ghost. The half-brother to King Cailan Theirin, the bastard son of King Maric Theirin is…Alistair. Alistair James Theirin, First of his Name.”

Bridget blinked at Teagan and was quiet for a moment. She then scoffed and shook her head.

“If this is some elaborate joke you are trying to play, I do not appreciate it in light of all these circumstances.” She snapped.

Teagan closed the gap between them and gently took her hands in his. Bridget moved to pull away but noticed the look in Teagan’s eyes and felt her guard dissipate.

“I have no reason to lie to you, milady. Allow me to show you if you will not believe my words.”

Teagan, with Bridget’s hand in his, led her across the room. With his other hand, he grabbed a candle to light their way. He then escorted Bridget into a side room. As they entered, Bridget coughed. Cobwebs clung to the dark corners of the room and dust coated the floor and hung in the air like an early morning fog. This room had not been used for some time. A flash of lightening illuminated the room briefly. The furniture within was draped with tarps and linens to preserve the woodwork. Bridget furrowed her brow.

“Where are we?” she asked softly.

Teagan turned towards her and cast her a mournful look.

“My sister, Rowan’s study. Rowan, as you know married King Maric. My sister’s constitution…it weakened greatly while she was with child. She was so vivacious and full of life, however, when she became pregnant, the baby…took much from her. She grew very ill, and Maric sought his company elsewhere whilst she laid wrought with fever.”

Teagan guided Bridget towards the back of the room. There, he placed the candle on the desk and removed the sheet that covered a large portrait. Bridget put her hand over her mouth as she gasped. She was eye level with the man in the portrait who bore the same honey-colored eyes as Alistair. Not only did he carry the same eyes, but the same tawny hair and sharp nose. He was dressed in regalia and looked every bit a king. The young woman that stood beside him had hair as black as night and piercing grey eyes, eyes that she shared with her brother, Teagan. A sweet smile graced her full lips. The couple indeed looked happy.  

“When a serving girl at the castle fell with child, no one seemed to notice. She was of the poorer class and that kind of thing tends to happen from time to time. No one suspected that she bore Maric’s bastard. Soon after Cailan was born, the child that the kitchen maid carried also came into the world. She died during the birth, did not even live long enough to name him. Maric was made aware and, as he held my sister’s hand as she took her dying breath…named his bastard son and ordered that he be taken from the palace for his protection. My sister never knew and died believing her husband was faithful to her even when she had wasted away. I suppose it was a kindness bestowed from him but…it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”

Bridget’s mouth was agape as she stared at Teagan and absorbed his tale. She felt herself step backwards and fall into a chair. A cloud of dust erupted around her as she did so. Alistair…a prince? The heir to the throne of Ferelden? The whole idea seemed preposterous and yet, Alistair had always been very selective about revealing his childhood and his past, only uncovering what needed to be told and he never did go into detail, always found a way to change the subject. Bridget swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked back to Teagan.

“Go on.” She said in a shaky whisper.

Tegan drew his brows together and sighed.

“The baby had no one and my brother could not bear the thought of something happening to the lad. After all, it was not his fault, he didn’t ask to be born. Eamon took Alistair in and raised him; thus, he took the brunt of the bastard rumors. Everything was fine until he met and fell in love with Isolde. Pious as a woman as she is, she was vehemently jealous of Alistair. I’m sure she believed the rumors herself. She gave Eamon an ultimatum and unfortunately, his love for Alistair was not as great as his love for her. Alistair was sent to the Chantry and there he remained until Duncan recruited him into the Wardens seven months ago.”

Bridget felt a tear fall from her eye as she turned her attention back to the portrait. She stood and walked up to it to inspect it better. Bridget gently touched the canvas. It felt rough beneath her fingertips as she gently touched Maric’s face…Alistair’s face. She let her hand fall along the canvas as she hung her head as more tears fell.

“I…I don’t understand…why wouldn’t he tell me this?” she asked softly.

Teagan placed a delicate hand on Bridget’s back and patted it comfortingly.

“I am sure he had his reasons, though I cannot fathom what they may be. I tell you this because I believe you deserve to know the truth. You are so wrought with worry of what could happen if Eamon dies. Now that you know Alistair’s true parentage, there is another way out should things go awry. Theirin blood, royal blood, flows through his veins. It may be an option, should we need it.”

Bridget wiped her eyes on her sleeve and lifted her head. She caught Teagan’s gaze in hers and sighed.

“Thank you for revealing the truth.” She stated.

Teagan bowed his head and led them both out of the room. He closed the door gently behind them and offered to walk Bridget back to her room. She took his arm and accepted, though said nothing in return. They walked in silence back up the stone hallways and staircase until they stood outside her door.

“Try to get some rest, you owe yourself that much, milady.”

Ever the gentleman, Teagan kissed her hand and bid her a goodnight. Bridget entered her room and rested her back against the door as she closed it behind her. Zeus lifted his head from the large bed that awaited her and whined, sensing that something was wrong. Bridget felt numb as she slid out of the fine dress and into her usual linen shirt she wore when she slept. She sat on the edge of her bed and scratched Zeus behind his ears. He nudged her face with his snout and rested his head in her lap. Bridget’s mind felt like a windmill in a hurricane. Too many thoughts clashing together at once, it left her feeling nauseated and ill. She rummaged for her flask that carried her sleeping draught and took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste. Bridget laid against the fur blankets and closed her eyes as she willed herself to sleep. Yet not even the draught could quell the betrayal she felt within her heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Confrontation

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Castle Redcliffe

            “You’re special to me”. Alistair replayed Bridget’s sentence repeatedly as he stared up into the canopy of his bed. He smiled as he remembered how her eyes sparkled like gemstones and how her lips had curved into a faint, nervous smile. Alistair grinned. He had never been special to anyone—or at least, no one had ever told him that before. But Bridget had, and as he thought of her words once more, he felt his heart soar. If he was special to her, did that mean she cared for him? In the same way that he had begun to care for her? Alistair tried not to get his hopes up as reality sank in around him. She still did not know of his parentage, who he truly was. He wasn’t sure if she would still regard him in the same light once he told her the truth.

Alistair sighed and ran a hand down his face. He admitted to himself he had kept this from her for too long. He wished he had told her last night, but she had been so distressed with the news of Lothering that he couldn’t bear to add anymore stress. However, Alistair resolved that he would tell her everything today. He had to confess the truth. Once he revealed his secret, Alistair was sure that he would be able to reveal…other feelings when the time was right.

But it had to be today at camp. He would reveal all. He only hoped that she would still find him special once she learned the truth. Alistair let his thoughts wander as he slowly sat and moved to the edge of his bed. He had not noticed at first, but this was the same room he had when he was a boy. He smiled faintly as he gazed at the wooden toy soldiers that sat atop his dresser. He cast his gaze to his nightstand where his mother’s amulet rested. He picked up the necklace gingerly and held it carefully in his large hands. What had once felt so heavy in his palms when he was a child was as light as a feather now. He remembered the day he had thrown the amulet at Eamon after he revealed that Alistair was to go to the Chantry. Alistair shuddered as the memory played before him.

At the time, he had never been so angry…or disappointed in himself. Alistair had only been eight, he hadn’t understood why he was being sent away. He thought he had done something wrong, that he wasn’t good enough and had somehow lost Eamon’s approval, even though that wasn’t the case. Alistair frowned as he turned the necklace over in his hands. All the times Eamon had tried to see him and he refused…Alistair hoped he could make things right.

He placed the amulet around his neck and tucked it discreetly under his tunic. He stood, splashed some water on his face, and donned his splint mail, deciding to head to the main hall so that they could be on their way.

He knew Bridget wanted to get a head start today and didn’t want to waste any time. Alistair slung his pack over his shoulder, took another brief glance around the room, and headed towards the main hall. As Alistair entered, he found Zevran gazing at himself in a nearby mirror, carefully inspecting his face for any blemishes, Alistair presumed. He acknowledged his companion with a nod and sat down on a nearby bench.

As Alistair sat, he mulled over the possibility that he and Bridget might have feelings for one another. The thought alone brought a bashful grin to his lips. If Bridget did indeed have feelings for him, Alistair would find himself greatly surprised. She, of course, was easy to fall for, with her golden hair and bright blue eyes. She looked like a princess in the tales he had read as a lad.

But it was Bridget’s spirit that had captivated him so. Alistair had never met anyone with as much determination or grit as Bridget. The entire world was against her, yet she stuck out her chin in defiance and stared down every challenge without ever backing down.

What Alistair admired most of all was that she was incredibly human. Instead of shutting off her emotions, she felt them tenfold. When she needed to cry, she would cry. When she needed to scream, she would scream. The fact that she allowed herself to feel when the world told her not too…that is what Alistair loved most about her.

Alistair sat as straight as a rod.

            Love?

Had…had he just thought that? Did he love her? In truth, they barely knew each other, and yet, Alistair looked forward to her company every day. She was the last thing he thought of at night and she graced his thoughts as soon as he woke in the morning. His thoughts always became a jumbled mess anytime he was near her, and his heart felt as if it soared amongst the clouds any time, he laid eyes on her.

As the realization dawned on Alistair, nerves clenched his stomach as he crossed his arms and tapped his foot. He didn’t know the first thing about any of this! He didn’t know how to court a lady, and certainly knew that something like this should be the last thing on his mind!

However, Alistair could think of little else. As he tried to make sense of the confusion in his head, Alistair shifted his gaze to Zevran. Alistair frowned and shook his head as he nervously bounced his knee. He uncrossed his arms and drummed his fingers against his knee as he mulled over the possibilities of where this conversation could go before, he released a frustrated sigh.

            “Zevran, may I ask you something?”

The minute the words left his mouth, Alistair regretted it. However, he had already opened the can of worms…may as well dig in. Zevran continued to gaze at his reflection.

            “Of course, though I may choose not to answer.”

Alistair nodded.

            “Fair enough. You seem like the type of man who…um…knows his way with women, I guess? Have you had many in your time?”

Zevran chuckled as he patted the side of his face and cast a devilish grin at his reflection.

            “I have indulged from time to time if my attention was not held elsewhere,” he replied.

Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably.

            “Right well, I wondered…how do you…woo…them. Is there a certain technique or?”

At this, Zevran raised an eyebrow and turned to face Alistair.

            “Woo? Are you quite serious?”

Alistair blushed and stammered.

            “Um…yes? I don’t really know what else to call it, I-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Zevran crowded him on the bench and laughed.

            “You mean to tell me you have never wooed before? You are woo-less, as it were?”

Alistair wished the elf would respect his boundaries of personal space, but, he admitted that assassins probably either didn’t know or care about boundaries at all. Alistair shook his head and stood.

            “Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea.” He grumbled.

Zevran chuckled and clapped his hands together.

            “Well, not at all! I do happen to be an expert on matters such as this, after all! But I must know who this woman is that you wish to…enrapture? Would it be our fearless leader, perhaps?” Zevran asked with a knowing wink. Alistair felt his face burn as he looked away and crossed his arms.

            “No. I was just asking. In general.”

Zevran laughed heartily and placed his hands on his knees.

            “Oh, my good friend, you are as transparent as a wet napkin. However, regardless of who this mysterious woman may be, I suggest presenting her with a gift. Perhaps something of meaning to you? Women enjoy all kinds of bits and baubles, I’m sure you’ve come across something along your journey that has caught your eye, no?”

Alistair drew his brows together for a moment as he mentally sifted through what little possessions he had. His eyes widened as he remembered the rose from Lothering. Of course! It was enchanted and would never wither! Alistair smiled warmly at the thought of giving Bridget his rose. Of course, he’d have to come up with something to say to her when he did so…and he would have to find the perfect time and place…but the rose…what an excellent idea! Zevran stood and walked towards Alistair and gave him a friendly slap on the back.

            “Don’t worry, my friend. I have all sorts of techniques I can teach you, I-”

            “What exactly are you two talking about?”

Alistair and Zevran both whipped around to face the staircase. Bridget stood eyeing them warily. Her armor glinted in the candlelight and Zeus trotted up behind her with a snort. Zevran and Alistair looked at each other.

            “Swords! We were uh…talking about swords…and things!” Alistair said quickly.

He flashed Bridget a nervous smile and discreetly elbowed Zevran in the ribs.

            “Ah yes…swords. Specifically, on how to use them.”

Alistair shot Zevran a dirty look to which the elf grinned sheepishly in response. Bridget gave them a strained glance before she walked past them and suggested they did not tarry. Alistair drew his brows together as he caught a glimpse of Bridget’s face as she walked by. Light purple rings clung underneath her eyes. He frowned sadly as he realized the news of Lothering must have kept her up last night.

As Alistair and Zevran followed Bridget outside, they were greeted by their other friends who were seeing Irving off. Bridget dropped her pack to help him saddle the horse as Wynne stood nearby, checking over his belongings to make sure he had not left anything behind. The morning air was cool, as the sun had not yet risen. Morrigan stood nearby with a conjured fireball so everyone could see what they were doing. The storm from the night before still lingered in the clouds above and a distant rumble of thunder sent an ominous chill down Alistair’s spine.

A few of the servants of the castle had emerged with brooms to sweep the fallen leaves out of the courtyard, grumbling about how they would have to do it again if more rain came today. After Irving’s saddle was ready, he turned to Wynne and gave her a friendly hug.

            “I know you don’t need me to tell you this but be careful on your journey. I’ll need you to come back, you know. I can’t expect to share my daily cup of tea with Greagoir.”

Wynne chuckled as she hugged her friend tightly.

            “I’ll die before I leave you to that bore of a man. Where else will you hear your gossip from?” she laughed.

Irving beamed at her and then turned his attention to Bridget. He bowed his head once more in thanks and gave her a sweet smile.

            “Thank you again, dear girl, for everything you sacrificed to save the Tower. We will not forget your bravery, and you need only call upon us when the time comes to face the Darkspawn. I wish you good fortune on your continued journey. I know it is not easy, but you are incredibly strong-willed, child. I feel comfortable knowing that the fate of Ferelden is in your hands.”

Bridget bowed her head to Irving.

            “I fear you place too much faith in me, First Enchanter. But I graciously accept your compliment and only hope that I may live up to your expectations.”

As Irving mounted his horse, he smiled down at Bridget.

            “Why, you already have, child. I shall see you soon.”

With a final wave and farewell, Irving clicked his tongue and slowly trotted out of the courtyard. Bridget stared after him wistfully until his trot broke into a gallop and he disappeared in the early morning fog. At the sound of more hooves approaching, Bridget turned to see Teagan approach with four more horses. She grinned and approached him, her eyes sparkling as Pandora recognized her and snorted a greeting.

            “I have convinced Horse Master Dennett to part with a few more mares in addition to Pandora and Pyoris so that you may reach Denerim all the faster, milady. They are well trained horses. If for any reason you become separated, they know their way back home. Please, take them and allow them to take you to the capital swiftly.” Teagan handed over Pandora’s reigns to Bridget, Pyrois’s reigns to Leliana, and the reigns of two smaller mares to Zevran and Wynne.

As Alistair counted the horses, he realized that someone would have to double up once again. He noticed Morrigan approach Pyoris and slip him a sugar cube. The horse neighed in happy compliance, so Alistair assumed she would ride with Leliana once again. He glanced at Wynne who had a larger pack compared to the others and did not have room for another rider, so she would be alone…which meant Alistair would either ride with Zevran or Bridget again.

Alistair quickly approached Bridget as she slung her belongings over Pandora’s rump and secured them in place with the leather straps. She didn’t greet or acknowledge him until he moved to place his own things upon Pandora’s back. Bridget turned and gave him a sharp, keen look.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

Alistair blinked and drew his brows together, albeit a little confused.

            “Loading my things? I assumed we would ride together, like before and-”

Bridget turned her back to him and quickly mounted Pandora. She held her head high and didn’t glance at him as she replied,

            “You assumed incorrectly. I wish to ride alone today.”

Alistair noted the frostiness of her tone and it made him shiver unpleasantly. Before he could respond, she clicked her tongue and Pandora moved forward at a slow trot. Zevran maneuvered his own mare and approached Alistair.

            “Hmm…I guess that means you must ride with me. But what luck! I can teach you all about the wooing arts along the way!” he exclaimed.

Alistair frowned as he stared after Bridget.

            “What joy.” He replied flatly.

Having no other option, Alistair secured his things to Flynn-the horse Zevran had chosen and mounted behind the elf. He rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Zevran’s chest and frowned deeply as Zevran chuckled.

            “Is there a problem, my good friend Alistair?”

Alistair blew a few errant strands of Zevran’s hair out of his eyes. His hair didn’t smell as nicely as Bridget’s had.

            “No. I just feel a little silly, that’s all.” He grumbled.

Zevran tipped his head to the side as he clicked his tongue and moved Flynn forward.

            “And why is that? Nothing wrong with two men sharing a horse.”

Alistair rolled his eyes.

            “It’s not that…Bridget just seems a little…off today.”

Zevran glanced at their leader at the head of the trail and shrugged.

            “Perhaps she is ill-rested? I’m sure the news from last night troubled her all evening.” He offered.

Alistair shrugged as a worried notch formed between his brows.

            “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He stared after Bridget longingly and drew his brows together as he watched her speak with Teagan. As they were some feet away, he could not hear what they said, but a slightly unnerving feeling crept into his stomach. As everyone bid their farewells, Bridget gripped Pandora’s reins and turned the horse to face her friends.

She made it a point not to look at Alistair. The sadness of being left in the dark regarding his parentage had faded during the night and had turned into anger. She took a deep breath to calm herself as she did not want to cause a scene for everyone to see. No, she would pull him away at camp that night and confront him. Bridget addressed her companions.

            “We’ve a long journey ahead, but the horses will shorten our travel by about two to three days if we run into no trouble along the road. We ride fast and only stop when we need to. We can’t waste any more time. I refuse for any other village to fall. Let’s go.”

The companions looked at each other warily. Something was…off with Bridget. Some were beginning to suspect it wasn’t just a lack of sleep that had made her so irritable this morning, though none knew what the issue could have been. Alistair frowned as he held onto Zevran’s slim waist as they began to take off. Bridget wasn’t kidding when she said they would ride fast. Alistair watched her at the head of the group. She gripped her saddle expertly and rode with grace and precision, even though she was galloping at a high speed. Her hair flowed behind her like rays of sunlight.

As the day progressed, Alistair began to think something was wrong. When they stopped to eat breakfast, Bridget flat out ignored him when he asked her a question. At lunch, she wouldn’t look at him. Perhaps he was mistaken, but he believed her condescension and coldness could not have just been due to lack of sleep. When they finally stopped for camp that evening, Alistair had a mind to ask Bridget to talk to him privately so he could ask her if she was okay. She had always been able to talk so freely to him. The aloof attitude she currently had hurt Alistair more than he could say.

The sky was painted in the orange and yellows of twilight when everyone had finished putting up their tents. Since the kitchens had provided the companions with several rations, Leliana was able to cook a delectable potato stew that warmed everyone’s bellies. After the meal, Alistair volunteered to gather firewood while the others continued their usual evening tasks. Morrigan and Wynne fell into a hushed conversation about tomes and magical things, while Leliana busied herself by putting away all the cutlery for the evening. Zevran lay on a nearby log reading a tattered book, and Bridget sat, sharpening her blade with a whetstone.

Alistair cast his eyes over to her after he placed the firewood down and let his gaze linger. She had already removed her armor and sat wearing a deep blue tunic and brown leggings. Her hair was in a loose braid, cast over her shoulder. Alistair stared at the expanse of her exposed neck and noticed that her jaw was slightly clenched. Carefully, he approached her. She slid the whetstone down her blade expertly. The sword glinted in the firelight.

            “Is everything all right?” Alistair asked softly.

Bridget continued to sharpen her blade, but did not look at him.

            “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?” she replied, a little too calmly.

Alistair nervously rubbed his hands together.

            “Well, you seem preoccupied. If it’s what happened in Lothering-”

Before Alistair could finish, Bridget cut him off.

            “Do you trust me, Alistair?” she asked.

Alistair blinked, thrown by the abrupt change of topic and the tone of her voice. She cast a questioning gaze to him as she awaited his answer. He fumbled over his words.

            “Why yes, completely,” he began.

Bridget raised a brow and stood. She cast him a rather devilish smile as she set her whetstone down and picked up her shield.

            “Wonderful. How would you like to spar, then? I feel we should keep up our skills, don’t you think?” she asked as she turned to face him, positioning herself in a fighting stance.

Alistair furrowed his brow.

            “Okay,” he began slowly, “but, shouldn’t we put our armor on? I-”

Bridget clicked her tongue and shook her head.

            “If you indeed trust me as much as I trust you, then we should not need any armor. We will know when to stop our blades and shields.”

Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably. Bridget was still acting very strange, but to avoid any further argument, he grabbed his sword and shield and joined her in position. Bridget swept her eyes over Alistair and studied his form. She noticed an opening and charged forward with her shield. He blocked her, but faltered slightly.

            “Do you trust me?” Bridget asked again as she charged once more.

Alistair, again, blocked her blow but had to dig his heels into the ground to keep from toppling over. For this to be a sparring match, Bridget wasn’t being very gentle.

            “Yes, with my life! Where exactly are you going with this?” he asked as he peeked from behind his shield.

Bridget saw her opportunity. She swept his legs out from under him and Alistair fell flat on his back with a loud thud. By now, the other companions had stopped what they were doing to watch the two Wardens closely. Alistair moved to get up, but Bridget moved her blade so that the tip of her sword was pointed at his neck. Alistair gulped. He shot a worried glance up at her and his heart sank as he saw tears in her eyes.

            “If you trust me as much as you claim to…then why didn’t you tell me that you’re Maric’s son?” she shouted.

The air instantly grew still. Even the crickets and frogs ceased to sing so that they too, could listen in. For a moment, everything around them seemed to disappear. Alistair only saw Bridget and the pain of betrayal on her face, and she only saw him, the man she once considered a friend. Their eyes bore into each other, searching one another’s. How had she found out? It wasn’t supposed to happen like this and now. As Alistair stared into her sad eyes, he felt as though he might not be able to repair the situation.

Bridget’s lip trembled, and she slowly pulled her blade back. Tears ran down her face as she sheathed her blade. Alistair slowly sat up, unable to speak. They both stared at each other for a long moment. The tension between them could have been cut with a knife. Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Alistair.

            “If you are indeed Maric’s son…that would make you a prince. The heir to the throne of Ferelden,” she stated.

Zevran raised his brows in surprise and rubbed his chin.

            “Hmm…a prince you say. What an interesting turn of events! How lucky you are to have met me! I’m sure you will meet someone down the line who needs assassinating at some point, no?”

Leliana shot a disapproving glance at Zevran and stamped on his foot.

            “Zevran!” she whispered sharply.

The elf shot her a hurt glance, then shrugged nonchalantly.

            “What? Is it a crime that I wish to secure employment after our little adventure is complete? I should think not!”

As the companions began to talk amongst themselves about this sudden new development, Alistair turned his attention back to Bridget. The way she looked at him broke his heart. She turned on her heel and stormed off into the woods. Alistair clamored to his feet and hurried after her. After a short walk, he found Bridget in a small clearing. A large oak tree stood in front of her and there was a pond nearby. The moon was out now and shone brightly against the dark velvet of the night. Its reflection bounced off of the pond water.

Bridget took a few breaths to steady herself. She could hear Alistair behind her, his quick and anxious breaths. She couldn’t face him yet. She blinked back more tears that wished to flow and clenched her fists.

             “Is it true? Are you Maric’s son?”

Alistair drew his brows together and hung his head. When he didn’t respond, Bridget asked,

            “Why didn’t you tell me?”

To try to spin humor on the situation, Alistair shrugged and said,

            “You never asked?”

Bridget whipped around and cut her eyes at him. She strode over to him and closed the space between them as she jabbed his chest with an accusatory finger. 

            “That’s a cheap answer! Don’t you dare try to deflect this with another joke! You lied to me, Alistair! I have been more than open with you regarding my past and yet you deliberately kept this from me! You say you trust me but obviously you don’t!”

            “What? No! That’s not it at all I…I can explain.”

Bridget crossed her arms tightly over her chest and tipped her head slightly to the side. Alistair sighed as his shoulders slumped.

            “I never meant to hurt you, believe me that was not my intention at all. I didn’t tell you because of my own selfishness.”

Bridget frowned.

            “Care to elaborate?”

Alistair shot her a strained glance. He shook his head and began to pace back and forth.

            “Anytime anyone has ever found out, they’ve treated me differently. There were no more carefree conversations or laughs, everyone was so serious all the time. No one knew how to behave around me. It has always defined me, it’s why Duncan kept me out of the fighting.”

Bridget stared at him as Alistair continued. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

            “I never asked for this, and Maker knows I don’t want it! I shouldn’t even exist! I don’t even know if I was conceived of love or something sinister! I am just Alistair! That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. That’s why I didn’t tell you, I just wanted to be myself without any of the extra baggage. I’m no king and I don’t want to be!”

Bridget drew her brows together.

            “Royal blood is in your veins, Alistair. It is your birth right. This may not be something you can hide from-”

Alistair cut her off.

            “You don’t understand! I cannot be king! Kings are important, they’re glorious, they matter! Look at me! There’s nothing glorious about me! I can’t even lead our rag tag group of friends, let alone a country! I placed the burden of leadership upon your shoulders because I couldn’t handle it. I can’t handle it! I’m not important, nor do I matter—to anyone! If I mattered to my father, he wouldn’t have sent me away in shame, he would have owned up to his mistake and done the right thing! But that’s all I was to him, a mistake, something that should have never happened! If I had mattered to Eamon, he wouldn’t have sent me to the Chantry, but no! Isolde couldn’t bear the rumors and he cast me aside just like my father did!”

Alistair hadn’t noticed that the expression on Bridget’s face had changed.

            “All I have ever wanted was to belong and to live out from underneath the shadow of my heritage. I thought I had found that when I joined the Wardens, but again, the secret was discovered, and I was left behind while the others got to fight. My protests fell on deaf ears and again, nothing I wanted mattered, I didn’t matter. Not to anyone.”

            “How can you stand before me and say that?”

For the first time since Alistair began to explain everything, he cast a wary glance to Bridget and felt his entire constitution crumble. She stared up at him with a tear-streaked face, her eyes glistened with tears not yet shed. Before Alistair could say anything, Bridget released a frustrated cry and grabbed his shirt in her hands. Alistair took a step backwards, surprised by her sudden movement.

            “How can you say that! How? How could you think you don’t matter to anyone when you matter so much to me?”

Alistair blinked as he stumbled backwards as Bridget gently pushed on his chest.

            “All this time, Alistair! Ever since Ostagar! You have been the one constant in my life! You who reel me in before I fall too far into the void! You who remind me every day not to give up, to keep going! You who listen to me time and time again wail for my family…you who keep me sane amongst all this chaos. You who are my anchor that keeps me grounded…you don’t think you matter? You who made me smile when I didn’t think I was capable of doing so ever again?”

Alistair was at a loss for words. He had no idea what to do or say. Bridget released her grip on his shirt and held his face in her hands as she gazed up at him. She shook her head.

            “You couldn’t be more wrong, Alistair. You matter to someone. You matter to me. I would be lost without you!”

A new and unexpected warmth flowed through Alistair. What happened next only felt right. Bridget wasn’t sure if she moved first or if Alistair had. Perhaps they both made the same choice and acted at the same time. Regardless, their lips met, soft and chaste…the only witness the twinkling stars above. The kiss was quick and ended too soon for either of them. They pulled back, surprised. The two Wardens gazed into each other’s eyes as they attempted to process what had just happened…what line they had just crossed. Neither one could discern the other, yet they both made the conscious decision to lean forward and kiss again. Like a whisper, their lips touched once more.

Alistair froze; he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He had never been kissed before, but when he felt Bridget’s fingertips at the base of his skull; slowly toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, his worry melted away to excitement and giddiness. He wrapped his arms around her and allowed his hands to explore the hollows of her back. A gentle break once more, and once again they searched each other’s eyes. Alistair gently bumped his nose against Bridget’s before she tilted her head and their lips met again in a deeper, more urgent kiss. Bridget pulled Alistair closer as his tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips.

Their mouths parted as their tongues broke free, eager to explore the recesses of their mouths. Alistair groaned softly as his body began to react to the heat of the moment. His skin felt hot as he felt himself slip into the heady bliss of desire. Without their armor on, he could feel every curve of Bridget’s body pressed against his. He groaned again and took a step back, accidentally breaking the kiss. They both panted and stared at each other for a long moment.

The flush on Bridget’s ivory cheeks was like the flush of sunset on freshly fallen snow. Her chest rose and fell in time with her breaths. Maker above she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she had kissed him! Or perhaps he had kissed her? It didn’t matter. They had both made a choice. Bridget cast her eyes over Alistair and bit back a smile as she stared at his bewildered and flushed face. She moved to embrace him once again but flicked her eyes behind him and suddenly froze. Everything became still and silent.

Willem stood behind Alistair and frowned deeply at Bridget. He was covered in blood and a mortal wound in his abdomen. Bridget’s lip trembled as her voice caught in her throat, unable to speak. Willem bore his eyes into her and shook his head.

            “You have betrayed me,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Bridget swallowed and drew her brows together as she blinked back tears. Willem shot her an accusatory glance.

            “My body has not yet turned to bones and here you are, already in the arms of another! You said you loved me! How could you? How could you forget me so soon?”

Bridget snapped her eyes shut and swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat. The moment she had shared with Alistair was gone and replaced with a feeling of overwhelming guilt and betrayal. She took short, panicked breaths as she shook her head. Bridget nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Alistair’s hands on her shoulders.

            “Bridget, is everything…are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bridget took a shaky breath as she looked at Alistair. The hopeful gaze he held in his eyes was enough to break her. She shook her head and took a step back, releasing his shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest and held herself. Alistair took a step forward to comfort her. She was visibly shaken; he was unsure what to do. Bridget took a step back.

            “I’m sorry…I forget myself. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. I should go.”

Without another word and before Alistair could stop her, Bridget turned and ran back to camp. Alistair stared after her, confused and hurt. He growled in frustration and cursed as he turned around and kicked the tree. Another curse fell from his lips as he remembered he wasn’t wearing his armor and felt the full brunt of the tree in his toes. Maker, he had royally messed up. He was raised to be a gentleman and gentlemen don’t kiss ladies like that! He must have offended Bridget with his boldness and that was why she had run off.

Still…Alistair confessed to himself that he had enjoyed it. He touched his lips with his fingertips and smiled slightly. Bridget’s lips had been as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. He shook his head and resigned himself to hold onto that memory for later. For now, he chased after Bridget. Upon returning to camp, however, Morrigan stopped Alistair in his tracks as she pointed her staff at him.

            “What did you do, you great idiot?” she seethed.

Alistair held up his hands in defeat as he noted the murderous look in the apostate’s eyes.

            “Nothing! What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at him and did not lower her staff.

            “The Warden ran to her tent in near hysterics! Since you were the only one that has been with her this entire time, it’s a safe assumption that you have done something! So, I ask again, what did you do?”

Alistair felt his face flush as the eyes of his companions fell on him, all curious as to what took place.

            “I-I just need to talk to her,” he began but Morrigan shook her head.

            “Absolutely not. I have already advised that she take her draught and rest. Whatever you need to apologize for-because I am quite sure you offended her in some way-can wait until the morning.”

With that said, Morrigan withdrew her staff from Alistair’s chest and stormed off to her own tent. The others looked at each other apprehensively and slowly returned to their own tasks but did not dare to look at or question Alistair about what had happened. Alistair sighed and felt ashamed. He only hoped he could make things right with Bridget come the morning. As much as he had loved the feel of her lips against his, he vowed he would never touch her again if that meant she would still consider him a friend.

Zevran offered to take the first watch with Leliana so that Alistair could get some rest. Even the usual jovial elf was a little on edge after the night’s revelations. Alistair thanked him and climbed into his tent, resolved that he would not get a wink of sleep. He stared up into the beige canvas and sighed. He was disgusted with himself. He had to make things right with Bridget…he had to. Come morning, he would apologize for everything and beg her for forgiveness. He only hoped that she would listen and absolve him of all the shame he carried.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Resolution

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Camp

Steel clashed upon steel as Bridget blocked the underhand attack from her pursuer. She grunted in frustration and blew hair out of her eyes as she side stepped and dodged another fatal blow by crouching down and rolling out of the way. Bridget looked around at her companions. Leliana jumped into the air and fired three arrows at assassins that were hidden within the trees, taking them out efficiently.

Wynne cast a protective spell around everyone and centered her focus on keeping Bridget and her companions shielded with magic while Morrigan was much more destructive. She conjured icy orbs and shot them from her hand, cursing when the assassins would disappear or dodge out of her way.

Zevran and Alistair fought back-to-back, Zevran quick to defend any of Alistair’s openings. He had trained with the Crows nearly all his life and knew most of their techniques and stealth, but that did not mean he could fell these foes any easier. They were skilled assassins, just as he was. They were not going to go down without a fight.

Bridget stood and narrowed her eyes as she ran back into battle, ramming an assassin with her shield. She heard a distinct whistle, and then another, almost like a bird’s call. Suddenly, Bridget found herself captured within a smoke cloud. The vapor from the smoke bomb stung her eyes and made her lungs feel heavy as if they had become lead. She doubled over and coughed, gasping for air.

There was nothing she could do when she her shield was ripped away from her. Bridget cursed and felt for the dagger she kept hidden inside her boot. She held her breath and gripped the dagger tightly in her hand as she rolled away from the smoke. Bridget collided with an assassin and took them down in an array of tangled limbs.

The assassin fumbled for dominance underneath her and quickly withdrew a throwing knife. His quick trained eyes found a weak spot within Bridget’s armor, and he delved the knife into her side. Bridget screamed in pain and fell to the side. The assassin grinned beneath his mask and moved over to straddle her but was met with a dagger. Bridget plunged her dagger into his jugular and closed her eyes and mouth tightly as his blood rushed forth and coated her face, hair, and chest.

Bridget blew her breath out of her nose and shook her head. The pain in her side was excruciating and the smell of the assassin’s blood made her dizzy and nauseous. She could feel her own blood escaping her side and tried in vain to push the assassin off her, his body was heavy and deadweight. Between the vapors from the smoke bomb, the wound in her side, and the metallic smell of blood overwhelming her, Bridget could feel herself begin to slip away into unconsciousness. The last thing she remembered was hearing Zeus bark loudly and Alistair shout her name before the darkness in the corner of her eyes encompassed her and she fell into a cold pool of nothing.

xXx

Alistair held Bridget’s hand nervously as Wynne placed her hands to her side and whispered a spell. The mage’s hands erupted in a blue and green flame and went to work healing the stab wound in her side. Zevran took a wet rag and gently began to wipe away the blood from Bridget’s face. He could feel accusatory eyes on him from his other companions, so he remained quiet and busied himself with this task for now, even though he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt and that this attack was his fault.

Alistair glared at Zevran discreetly. The night had begun like any other except for the fact that he and Bridget had not spoken since they kissed. She had done her best to avoid him, and Alistair was not one to push the issue. Clearly, he had offended her, and this was the punishment he deserved. He was supposed to keep watch with her that night but found himself sitting by the campfire with Leliana instead.

As they had talked in hushed tones and she tried to offer him what little advice she could regarding the situation, her keen eyes and spotted a crow within the trees and a glint of silver that caught the moonlight. After that, everything was a blur. They had been ambushed, their camp now lay in disarray, Bridget down and out…it was an absolute mess. So of course, when the time came to put the blame on someone, the obvious choice was Zevran since it was members from his faction that had ambushed them once again.

Alistair’s heart skipped a beat as he felt Bridget’s hand twitch in his. He looked at her hopefully as Zevran pulled the rag away from her face. Her eyes were still closed, and she grimaced, but then a sweet smile fell to her lips as she tightened her hold on Alistair’s hand.

            “Willem…” she whispered.

Alistair blinked. Willem. He had never heard that name before. He wracked his brain for a moment and filtered through all of Bridget’s family members, but that name didn’t ring a bell. Was it his imagination or had she said the name with a tone of endearment? Zevran quirked a brow as he shifted his eyes from Alistair to Bridget. Perhaps Alistair was not the only one with a hidden secret?

Wynne continued to heal Bridget’s wound until she sensed that her job was complete. When she doused her hands of magic and withdrew them, Bridget’s eyes fluttered open. Alistair released a sigh of immediate relief. Bridget slowly moved to prop herself up on her elbows. She winced slightly at her side and looked to Wynne.

            “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

Wynne smiled and nodded; the moonlight made her silver hair glow.

            “Of course, my dear girl. I have healed your wound to the best of my ability. You may still be a little sore, but the damage has been reversed and you should be fine.”

Bridget smiled and nodded. She turned her head and her eyes locked with Alistair. The warmth in his eyes and the sweet smile on his face made Bridget’s heart soar. This was the first time she had looked at him, had been this close to him since the kiss they had shared. When she looked down to see her hand in his, Alistair immediately withdrew it and cleared his throat.

            “I um…I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled.

Bridget swallowed nervously and nodded, unable to find her voice. Alistair helped her stand and when Bridget slightly stumbled from the sudden shift in weight, Alistair caught her by her hips and steadied her. Bridget looked up at him sucked in a breath. His hands were strong on her hips and his chest was solid. They stared at each other a moment before Alistair pulled his hands away quickly and walked away. Bridget turned her attention to Zevran and drew her brows together as she noticed him by the fire, alone. She walked over to him and sat next to him. Zevran shot her a guilty look and shook his head, unable to find the words to express his sincere apology. Bridget rested her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle, comforting squeeze.

            “I do not blame this on you, Zevran.”

The elf, surprised, turned his head to face her once more.

            “How can you not? I have needlessly placed your life in danger by traveling with you.”

Bridget shook her head.

            “It was my decision that you join us, knowing full well that the Crows were hunting you. Zevran, you are valued in this team, and I promise you, I will do everything in my power to remove the target from your back. I swear it.”  

Zevran was overcome with emotion and gratitude that he could do nothing but nod and squeeze Bridget’s hand back. After the companions cleaned themselves up from the battle and pulled the bodies of the assassins to the side, there was minimal conversation as everyone was tired and on edge. Sleep only came in short bursts overnight, and once the sun was up, everyone made quick work packing their things.

            “We will need to stop for supplies soon, the feed for the horses is running short.” Morrigan stated.

Leliana brightened as she adjusted her belongings over Pyoris’s rump.

            “South Reach has an amazing market! It is the hub for trade in Ferelden, after all! Plus, it is not out of our way. We would have to pass through to reach Denerim.”

Bridget nodded as she petted Pandora’s snout and hugged the gentle animal lovingly.

            “Very well, we shall stop in South Reach today, fill up on supplies, and press on.”

The companions were eager to leave this campsite behind. As everyone readied their horses, Bridget noticed Alistair standing nearby with his pack slung over his shoulder. This rift between them tore at Bridget’s heart more than she was willing to admit. She finished strapping her things to Pandora’s saddle and took a deep breath.

            “Would you like to ride with me today?” she asked.

Alistair blinked and turned his attention to her. A swarm of butterflies filled his stomach as he blushed.

            “Yes! I mean…um…only if you are comfortable with it…” he murmured.

Bridget gave him a small smile and nodded. Alistair quickly saddled his belongings and mounted Pandora behind Bridget before she could change her mind. Once settled, he took a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair, thankful for the smell of lilies and not whatever musky scented wash Zevran used.

The day was bright and sunny, yet still cold and chilly. Harvestmere would soon give way to Firstfall, and with Firstfall would come unbearable winds and snow. That would make traveling even more difficult and longer, Bridget noted. For now, she enjoyed the gentle wind that tickled her cheeks and the rise and fall of Alistair’s chest behind her. They decided the horses needed some rest so instead of traveling at a gallop, they rode at a soft canter today which slipped into a trot.

            “Can I ask you something?” Alistair asked softly.

Bridget swallowed nervously, unsure if he meant to bring up the kiss or not. Neither one of them had mentioned it yet, and Bridget was prepared to forget about the whole thing…if she could. It was hard to, however, when the kiss had been so good. So full of want and desire.

She felt her face flush remembering it and cleared her throat. She and Alistair had fallen behind everyone else so their conversation would not be overheard as Zevran was regaling the others with some fantastical tale of when he raided a palace in Antiva, while Morrigan groaned and mumbled to herself, and Leliana hung onto every word he said.

            “Yes,” she replied nervously.

Alistair was quiet for a moment and then took a deep breath.

            “Who is Willem?”

The way Bridget’s body tensed against his when he said that name sent a slew of questions through Alistair’s mind. Obviously, this was either someone important to her, or someone that Bridget loathed. He couldn’t read her face since he could only stare at the back of her head but tried to discern her thoughts through her body’s reactions.

            “H-How do you know that name?” She squeaked, then cleared her throat.

Alistair pressed further.

            “When you were unconscious, you said that name when you squeezed my hand,” he stated.

Bridget took a deep breath and sighed. She had no right to keep Alistair in the dark about her past relationship any longer and felt rather silly for being so upset with him over his secret when she had not divulged her own. She frowned at herself and shook her head.

            “I’m afraid I’m the world’s largest hypocrite,” she laughed darkly.

Alistair furrowed his brow.

            “Why? What makes you say that?” he asked.

Again, he felt her body tense.

            “Because I…have not revealed all of my past to you, either.”

A moment of silence past through them before Bridget continued. Alistair noted that she took a hefty sigh and he gently held her hips a little tighter.

            “You don’t have to tell me—” he began.

Bridget shook her head.

            “No…I need to tell you.”

Alistair listened keenly as Bridget revealed to him a secret she had not revealed to anyone, not even Fergus, though, she had a feeling her older brother was aware and only remained silent on the matter out of respect for her. Bridget described the day she met a young boy named Willem who had come to squire at their castle. They were close in age, Willem was only four years older than Bridget, and they became fast friends, much to Fergus’s dislike because every time he and Willem would spar, Bridget always wanted to intervene.

            “As the years passed, Willem eventually took up arms under our flag and we grew from children to teenagers. By this point, father had hired Ser Percival to train me, so I was in the yard with the other men daily. As we grew older, our friendship grew closer, and we noticed that…we weren’t children anymore.”

Alistair sucked in a breath. Bridget felt his grip on her hips tighten and felt him tense up as well. She blushed as she continued and remembered the memory of her first kiss.

            “One day, I had asked Willem to spar with me. The clouds were thick in the sky and in the middle of our match, the heavens opened, and rain just poured down. We ran to the stables for shelter, soaking wet and laughing. He said if the rain hadn’t come, he would have bested me. I called him a liar as he was clearly already losing the match. We laughed at each other and before I knew it, we kissed.”

Alistair knew he had no right to feel jealous. This all happened well before he knew Bridget. Still…the thought of another man making her laugh, holding her close, and feeling her soft lips, it did make him pout and he was very grateful that she couldn’t see his face. He shifted his weight in the saddle and continued to listen.

            “Our feelings were…complicated. If we were caught, all of Willem’s hard work would have been null and void. My father, kind of a man as he was, still would not have taken our relationship lightly. But we were young and foolish, and we thought we were in love.”

Alistair stilled. So…she had loved before. He didn’t know why he was shocked by this revelation, or why his heart continued to burn in jealousy. He said nothing, but when Bridget paused, he felt as if she were waiting for him to say something.

            “O-Oh…I um…I’m sure that was—” he stammered.

Alistair fell silent, unable to think of anything to say. He felt Bridget sigh as she continued.

            “The first night he snuck into my rooms, we were nervous and wary that we would be caught. But it was really…nice. We could hear the waves crashing outside, and the moon was full. Willem made me feel like I wasn’t just a nobleman’s daughter. I felt as if I could truly be myself around him. That I didn’t have to wear the mask of nobility I had to with everyone else.”

Again, Alistair was very thankful that Bridget couldn’t see his face, and he was doing his best to keep his body language under control, but the protective way he gripped her hips and puffed his chest out behind her gave him away.

            “Is there a problem?” Bridget asked.

Alistair turned his head sharply to see that her head was turned, and she caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye.

            “N-No! I…not at all!” Alistair replied, flustered from the entire conversation.

Bridget pursed her lips together to hide a smile and faced forward once more. She felt his breath quicken nervously behind her and couldn’t stifle the chuckle that rumbled in the back of her throat.

            “Does it bother you that I’m not a virgin?” she asked bluntly.

His stammer was adorable as Alistair tried and failed to string a sentence together. Bridget didn’t hold back her laughter this time and let it take over. Her entire body shook against Alistair’s, and he shifted in the saddle again, uncomfortably.

            “No. I mean…no, can we talk about something else?” he asked bashfully.

Bridget unexpectantly leaned her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him, a coy smile gracing her lips.

            “Of course. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Alistair cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed.

            “You didn’t. I just um…I don’t have much experience where all of this is concerned. I grew up in the Chantry, remember. They taught me to be a gentleman.”

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

            “And yet you kissed me with such vigor and passion for a gentleman.” She quipped.

She couldn’t help but grin at his blush as she tipped her head forward and paid attention to the road once more.

            “Well I…ahem…have wanted to for a while. I think I got a little carried away and I am sorry if I offended you in any way. I value you as a friend above all else and if I ever lost your friendship…”

Although he couldn’t see the warm smile that spread across Bridget’s face, he felt it in the way her body relaxed against his. She leaned back against his chest and her smile broadened when she felt his arms tentatively slide around her waist.

            “You didn’t offend me, Alistair. You are still my friend. I meant what I said that night. I would be lost without you.” She replied quietly.

Alistair released a grateful sigh of relief and turned his head into Bridget’s hair. He smiled when she did not pull away.

            “And I you,” he stated.

Bridget gently placed her hand atop Alistair’s and squeezed it lightly. She let it linger and looked ahead to see South Reach only a short distance away.

Leliana was right when she stated that South Reach was the main trading hub in Ferelden. As the companions rode into the city, they were greeted by traveling merchants, fishermen, and other craft and tradesmen eager to sell their wares. They found a nearby stable and dismounted their horses, stretched their legs, and rubbed their bottoms. They had been in the saddle for hours and, while Bridget was grateful that they had horses at their disposal, she was glad to have the opportunity to walk about and stretch her legs.

She opened her coin purse and paid the horse master several coins to purchase more feed for the horses and so that they could rest, drink, and eat some hay and vegetables he had laid out. He was a rather jolly fellow and accepted the coin graciously and even threw in an extra bag of feed out of kindness. That small act alone warmed Bridget’s heart. She met up with her companions once again and looked around, eager to explore the town and take an hour or so to rest.

            “Let’s not stray too far from each other, but while we’re here we should each replenish our supplies. Let’s meet back at the stables before sunset, sound fair?”

Her companions nodded and everyone broke off to explore the market. Humans, dwarves, elves, South Reach knew no prejudice and allowed anyone to sell their goods. A Dwarven Blacksmith stood nearby alert and ready to sell his war hammers and axes, an elven woman had high quality herbs and flowers for sale across from him. Several human merchants had cloaks, clothing, toys, weapons, armor, you could find almost anything if you looked hard enough.

What caught Bridget’s eye, however, was a small stand that sat just in front of the river. The sign read, Joran’s Crafts. It was loud and busy here as the fisherman and trade boats came to port. Men and women were shouting orders at each other, crowding the docks and trying to tie up their vessels to carry their goods off. An elderly elven man stood behind this stall. His kind eyes, green like the fresh leaves of spring, caught Bridget’s and twinkled.  

She elbowed her way through the crowd, murmuring her apologies as she approached his stall. He was a true craftsman. All his items were finely crafted from wood that must have come deep from within the Brecelian Forest. He sold nautical themed items, which made sense considering South Reach bordered the Drakon River. Bridget guessed the homes here had some type of nautical decorations within their walls.

            “See anything that piques your interest, dear? All my items are made of Ironbark, a sturdy wood that’s not easily broken. Cast your eyes around my wares and let me know if you would like anything.” Joran stated.

Bridget nodded her head to him and scanned over all the bits and bobs that he had for sale. Her eyes landed on a small craft shaped like an anchor. She plucked it gently from his display after asking if she could hold it. Joran nodded and watched her happily as she held the small anchor in her hand and ran her fingers over it’s grooves.

            “I carved that to help soothe whoever holds it. You might not be able to tell through your gloves, may I?” he asked.   

Bridget nodded as she carefully handed the anchor back to Joran. He held it delicately in his hand and pointed out all the small dips and grooves within the wood.

            “It’s meant for its owner to hold in their palms and rub whenever they are troubled or pensive, or when they wish to remember something happy. It’s meant to soothe anxieties and other ailments. Mind you, the wood is not enchanted, I just find that it has a calming charm to it, but then again, I’ve worked with wood my whole life so that could just be the craftsman in me talking,” he explained.

Bridget chuckled as Joran handed her the small anchor back. Bridget smiled down at it in the palm of her hand and retrieved the coins needed to pay for it.

            “Is this a gift for someone special? I can wrap it up for you if you’d like?” he asked.

Bridget thought for a moment and her heart warmed. She nodded eagerly and Joran wrapped the small gift neatly. Bridget thanked him graciously and placed it in her pouch carefully. Once she was sure it was secure, she bid Joran farewell and continued to make her way through the crowd.

There must be a show or something going on, Bridget thought, as the crowd seemed to become denser the deeper into the square she traversed. She began to feel the palms of her hands get sweaty as a cold chill creeped through the air. Bridget wasn’t the biggest fan of large crowds, especially if she was alone.When she was a child, she had lost her mother’s hand when they had attended the annual fishing festival in Highever. To this day, the memory of the panic of not seeing her mother, feeling her protective grip on her hand slip away, and being surrounded by unfamiliar faces still gave her an unpleasant feeling.

That panic was nothing compared to what Bridget was about to feel. As she desperately searched for any one of her friends, some familiarity in this sea of unknown, she heard a voice she had not expected, a voice she had tried to block out of her mind for so long…

            “You should all be grateful that I am here, giving you this opportunity! To swear yourselves to Loghain and carry his banner as we raid Orlais is a dream to your current station!” Arl Howe shouted.

Bridget froze in place as her legs felt like stone. She couldn’t move them, couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch, wide eyed, as the man who murdered her family, who took her entire life from her, stood atop the gallows of South Reach, addressing the crowd wearing ornate armor and looking every bit the smug, pompous, weasel that he was.

            “And why would we do that? Orlais is our ally! What about the Darkspawn?” one burly man from the crowd shouted back.

Howe narrowed his eyes at the man who dared to contradict him.

            “The Darkspawn are no threat,” he began flippantly, “The Grey Wardens are traitors and we have not seen any Darkspawn activity in weeks—”

The same heckler scoffed.

            “You lie! Tell that to all the men, women, and children whose ghosts are left wandering around Lothering, wondering why they were left to die!” he spat.

Bridget’s eyes flicked back to Howe, and she watched as he sneered. He sucked his teeth.

            “Who are you to defy me?” he asked menacingly.

The man in the crowd swelled his chest and narrowed his eyes.

            “An honest man. We all know what you did, Arl. You’ll never gain the Teyrnir over in Highever. Rumor has it you missed someone that night, and I’ll bet they’ll have your head on a pike before too long.”

A flash of…fear? No, it couldn’t have been. Bridget’s own mind was too much of a mess to make sense of anything that Howe could be feeling in the moment. She was completely frozen now, unable to feel her toes or fingers as the dread had rooted her to the spot. Howe’s men grabbed the heckler from the crowd and dragged him up to the gallows where they forced him on his knees before Howe.

            “You will swear your allegiance to Loghain and to me, or you will face consequences!” Howe shouted.

The honest man spat in Howe’s face and narrowed his eyes. The crowd gasped and grew still.

            “I’ll never swear to you, him, or any other usurper without a heart. You’re gonna kill us all on this mad quest for Orlais. The Darkspawn don’t care about politics, man! They will come and they will taint everything within their reach, it is only a matter of time!”

Howe slapped the man across his face, hard.

            “I told you to stop spreading lies! It appears you have not and will not learn your lesson. I will have to fix that for you.”

The crowd gasped again as Howe withdrew his dagger. The villager struggled within the arms of the guards, but they held him back and yanked his head back. The others gasped and cried out as Howe easily cut the man’s tongue out of his mouth. Blood poured onto the dusty wood of the gallows as Howe held his trophy high up in the air.

            “YOU SEE WHAT WILL BECOME OF YOU IF YOU DEFY ME? IF YOU DEFY KING LOGHAIN?” He shouted at the crowd.

Even though the heckler was wounded horrifically, it didn’t stop him from trying to grab at one of Howe’s men’s swords. Howe spun around as the guard took him down easily and ‘tsked’ softly.

            “I suppose you will have to pay with your life, then. Hang him.”

More cries and protests from the crowd as the man, who was now beginning to lose consciousness, was dragged to the noose. Howe himself slipped the rope around his neck and grinned evilly as he threw the lever. The villagers screamed and cowered in fear as they watched one of their own, a father, a husband, a friend, dangle and writhe like a fish out of water. His death was slow, choked on his own blood before his neck could break.

Whatever else Howe said was lost to Bridget. All she could hear was a sick combination of ringing in her ears mixed with Howe’s evil laughter and the sounds of her family screaming. She looked around, desperately trying to find someone, anyone to help pull her from the inevitable madness, but every face she saw was Howe’s, stark white and grinning viciously. Bridget felt her heart race as sweat beaded her brow. She needed to run, needed to scream, but she couldn’t.

In the commotion of the crowd clamoring around her, someone had stepped on the back of Bridget’s cloak. Her hands went to her neck as she gasped for breath. She knew it was Howe behind her, choking her from behind. He was not man enough to look her in the eye. Bridget gasped for breath, clawed at her cloak, and felt her entire world spin.

When strong arms wrapped around her, she flailed much like the man had flailed when the lever was pulled, and his life was taken. Again, she knew it was Howe, dragging her into a back alley to finish what he had started. Bridget tried in vain to push him away. Her surroundings were a dizzying mess, she couldn’t make anything out except his face, his dreadful face.

Alistair tried frantically to calm Bridget down. This was so much worse than their first night at camp, and back then he had Morrigan’s help. He wasn’t sure he could bring her out of this spell, but he had to try.

            “Bridget? Bridget, it’s me. It’s Alistair. You’re not near Howe anymore. You’re safe, you’re with me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Come back to me. Come back,” he whispered gently.

Alistair noted that Bridget’s eyes were glazed over, she whimpered and still was gasping for breath. He quickly unfastened her cloak from her throat and tore it away from her, hoping to give her relief. When Alistair heard heavy boots nearby, he pressed his body to Bridget’s and turned his back to the opening of the alley to shield her from view. Whether or not those were the footsteps of Howe’s men or the villagers, he wasn’t sure, but Alistair wasn’t going to take any chances.

Bridget was trembling she was shaken so bad. Alistair placed her hand over his heart and held it there. Bridget looked up at him, eyes wide in terror. Alistair drew his brows together and kissed her softly on her forehead, the notch between her eyebrows.

            “You’re safe, Bridget. You’re safe. Feel my heartbeat. I’m here. I’m here.”

The warmth of his chest eased through Bridget like mulled wine. Carefully, Alistair placed his hand upon her chest. Her heartbeat was quick under his palm. Alistair vowed that he was there for her, was by her side and soon, Bridget’s heartrate calmed back to a normal pace.

After several moments, Bridget searched Alistair’s eyes, a deep, warm honey that she would never tire of gazing into. He rested his forehead against hers and gently bumped his nose against hers.

            “I am here. Always. I’ll never abandon you; I swear it.” He whispered.  

Bridget closed her eyes as she felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. She crumpled into Alistair’s chest and pulled him close to her. Alistair drew his brows together and held her in a warm embrace. She shook with sobs and fell to her knees, bringing Alistair with her. He whispered sweet nothings to her to soothe her, calm her, anything to get her tears to stop.

Zevran eventually found them in the alley and Alistair told him to grab the others and the horses so that they could leave. Thankfully, Howe and his men had skulked off somewhere after the debacle in the courtyard. Bridget sat in front of Alistair, but he guided Pandora’s reins as Bridget’s hands were still shaking too badly. The companions left South Reach with their renewed supplies and made camp some miles away.

Bridget sat in front of the fire with her knees drawn up to her chest. Leliana brought her a bowl of stew as Alistair draped his cloak around her shoulders for extra warmth. Bridget took the stew with shaky hands and began to eat slowly. Her throat still felt as if it had a vice grip on it, but she swallowed and suddenly realized how hungry she was. As she ate the stew, she looked around at all her friends who were keeping a not so discreet eye on her.

Bridget smiled to herself and thanked the Maker briefly for each of them. Howe may have taken her blood family, and her companions would never replace them, but…she considered them family just the same. Wynne, the wise mother hen, Morrigan the broody older sister, Leliana the annoying kid sister, Zevran a brother of sorts, and Alistair…what was Alistair?

Bridget shifted and turned to look at her Warden companion. He sat next to her as he ate his own bowl of stew, speaking gently with Zevran, apologizing for the harsh gaze he had given him earlier after the Crows attacked. Alistair turned as he felt Bridget’s eyes on him and blushed when she placed her hand atop his and scooted closer to him. She tentatively rested her head against his shoulder, without saying a word, and closed her eyes.

Alistair smiled warmly and rested his head atop hers. The others went about mundane tasks away from the campfire to give them privacy. For a long while, neither of them said anything. Alistair eventually broke the silence and told Bridget of a woman named Goldana who lived in Denerim. Apparently, she was his half-sister. He went on to explain that he didn’t believe she knew that he existed, but he hoped to meet her all the same.

            “I know we have a million other things to do but…since we’re heading to Denerim…I thought we might could—” he began.

Bridget squeezed his hand and Alistair gazed at her. Her eyes were tired and puffy from her panic attack earlier, but they were warm, nonetheless.

            “Of course, we can.”

Silence consumed them once again. Bridget shyly placed her hand over Alistair’s heart once more. She could feel it better now that he was not clad in his splint mail. Alistair sucked in a breath at the touch and turned even redder when Bridget placed his palm against her sternum. The skin there was smooth beneath his hand.

            “Did you mean it? What you said about never leaving me?” she asked softly.

Alistair nodded without hesitation.

            “Yes. That is ah…unless you want me to, of course—”

            “No!” Bridget interrupted quickly.

She and Alistair looked at each other and they both blushed deeply. He felt her heartbeat quicken beneath his palm once more and could feel his own hammering away in his chest. He gave her a crooked grin and said,

            “Well…then I’m not going anywhere.”

Bridget laughed lightly as she rested her head against his shoulder once more. She had taken her sleeping draught earlier and it was beginning to take effect. Her eyelids grew heavy as she wrapped her arms through Alistair’s and settled comfortably next to him

Bridget knew that she would have to face Howe eventually. Next time, however, he would not take her off guard. And she wouldn’t have to face him alone. Her friends, her family would stand beside her and help her exact her vengeance on that vile man. She did not know when that day would come but knew in her heart that she could fully rely on them to help her when the time came. But for now, instead of projecting too far into the future, Bridget chose to live in the present moment.

With her head on Alistair’s shoulder and her hand in his, she drifted off into a sleep in which she was not plagued by nightmares of Howe, but of visions of a hopeful future, with Alistair by her side and carefree happiness in her heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

The Gates of Denerim

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Camp

Bridget turned into the softness of her pillow and slowly opened her eyes. Again, she found herself in her bed, in her home…yet this time she knew it was all a mirage. Her mind once again, found it amusing to play a trick on her. Bridget closed eyes shut tightly and willed herself to wake from this wretched dream. She would not allow herself to see her family as rotting corpses again. Bridget pinched at her arm, anything to wake herself up before the inevitable doom descended upon her once again.

            “Hello, love.”

Bridget stilled in her bed and stopped struggling. She swallowed the lump in her throat and released a shaky breath. Willem’s voice was gruff, yet tender. Just as she remembered it. She tentatively peeked over her shoulder, afraid that he would appear before her as he did when she and Alistair had kissed, mortally wounded and decaying.

But he was not. His skin was a healthy tan and not pallid. His warm eyes glowed as they always did when he looked upon her, with love and desire flickering within his pupils. He stood languidly against the nearby wall with his hands folded in front of him. He was dressed casually, a simple cotton shirt and brown breeches tucked into dark leather boots. Bridget sat up slowly, still wary of the specter pretending to be Willem. He noticed her hesitation and bowed his head to her.

            “You have every right to be apprehensive, love. But I assure you, it’s me.” He whispered.

Tears immediately sprang to Bridget’s eyes. Willem closed the gap between them and pulled out the chair that sat at Bridget’s vanity. He spun it around and straddled it as he folded his arms and rested his chin atop them. Bridget’s words were incoherent as her tears turned into sobs. Willem drew his brows together and shook his head.

            “Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asked softly.

Bridget looked at him sharply. Willem sighed and looked away.

            “Love…if this is about what happened between you and Alistair…you must know surely that it does not bother me?” he asked.

Bridget hiccupped softly but didn’t say anything in response, only felt the guilt in her heart grow. Willem scoffed as he cast his gaze back to her and smiled the crooked smile she had fallen in love with.

            “Bridget…you must stop using me, my image, to make yourself feel guilty for any feelings you may have towards Alistair. I—”

Bridget choked on a sob.

            “Your body is barely cold! How could I possibly begin to feel for another and not have guilt swarm my heart like a plague? It isn’t right, Willem.”

Willem sighed and stood. He moved to sit next to Bridget atop her bed and placed his hand over hers. Bridget thought his hand would be cold…but it was warm and inviting. Willem gently ran his thumb back and forth across the top of her hand.

            “But that’s just it, dearest. I’m dead. There’s nothing that will bring me back…therefore, you have the right to move on. It doesn’t matter if it’s a week, a month, a year after my passing. Our heart’s desires are not meant to be understood sometimes. It does not hurt me that you have found comfort in the arms of another.”

Bridget felt more tears flow as Willem continued.

            “You and Alistair have a bond that cannot be easily broken. You have been through so much together…don’t let what you felt for me cloud your heart. Allow yourself to be happy, love.”

Willem gently lifted Bridget’s chin with his fingertips so that he could gaze into her eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers and swallowed as he fought back his own tears.

            “You were one of the greatest joys of my life…allow yourself the chance to love again so that I may be at peace in death knowing that you are happy.”

Bridget choked on another cry and pulled Willem to her in a tight embrace. He hugged her back and ran his hand down her golden locks.

            “I’ll always love you, Bridget. But you mustn’t be at war with yourself over me. You must let me go, love…and do not miss out on what is right in front of you.”

Bridget gripped Willem’s shirt in her hands.

            “I’m scared to love again…what if I lose him as I have lost you? My heart can’t bear it a second time.” She sniffled.

Willem shook his head and pulled back. He gently wiped a tear away from Bridget’s eye with the pad of his thumb.

            “You must trust yourself to try, Bridget. Do it for me if not for yourself. Promise me. Promise me?”

Bridget hugged Willem as tightly as she could until she blinked open her eyes and found herself staring at the top of her tent, holding herself. She drew her brows together and shook with sobs as she felt the weight of guilt leave her heart like a bird being released from a cage. She smiled and nodded her head.

            “I promise.”

xXx

When the looming gates of Denerim finally appeared on the horizon, Bridget and her companions sighed with relief. Although they were sure getting into the city would prove to be a task in of itself, they were grateful nonetheless to have finally reached their destination. Bridget only hoped that Brother Genitivi would be easily found and could provide the information they needed to locate the Urn of Sacred Ashes so Eamon could be saved.

As the companions trotted closer to the gates, they noticed a line of villagers and heard angry and annoyed shouts. Bridget cast a wary glance to her friends. Everyone had their hands poised over their weapons, should they need them. Once they drew closer to the crowd, a man and woman with a cart full of goods were arguing.

            “We can’t turn back now, Alfstan! We’ve been here for three days already!”

The man, who Bridget assumed was Alfstan shook his head stubbornly.

            “No use, Petra, we may as well haul back. I don’t think they’re letting anyone in without a permit!”

Bridget and her companions looked at each other sharply. Alfstan and his wife, Petra noticed them and dropped their voices. They nodded their head in greeting and looked somewhat embarrassed to have been overheard arguing.

            “Did I hear you correctly, good man? There is a permit needed to enter the city?” Bridget asked.

Alfstan looked back at her and nodded.

            “Aye. We weren’t aware either until some folks ahead of us mentioned it. You’re either granted one at the gate if your goods are deemed well enough, or you would have to petition the king’s regent in advance. Not sure they’d let you lot in…what are you a group of mercenaries or something?” he asked suspiciously as he eyed their weapons curiously.

Alistair chuckled nervously.

            “Yes…something like that.” He murmured.

Bridget clicked her tongue and pulled on Pandora’s reins gently.

            “We were just going to stop to rest at the tavern, but this looks to be too much of a hassle. Thank you for your help, ser. Maker be with you,” she stated.

Alfstan nodded and turned his attention back to the standstill line in front of him as Petra continued to nag about staying in line again. Bridget led her companions out of earshot and away from the queue of merchants and villagers before she turned Pandora to address her friends.

            “Well…we knew going through the front gates was an unlikely option to begin with—”

Zevran clasped his hands together and nodded.

            “Yes, it appears we will have to do things my way, after all! Let us find somewhere to camp and we can plan, hmm?”

Soon, the companions found a secluded clearing surrounded by tall evergreens and began to set up camp. Leliana cooked everyone something to eat as the others went ahead and pitched their tents. They grabbed their dirty clothing so that it could be washed in the trickling stream nearby, and Zevran agreed that he would go and scout the walls with Bridget and Alistair. As the three friends carefully made their way through the bramble of the forest along the city walls, Zevran eyed Alistair suspiciously as Bridget walked on ahead of them. Alistair felt the elf’s eyes on him and raised his eyebrows.

            “Yes?” he asked.

Zevran smiled sneakily.

            “I am only curious if you have bestowed your token of affection to our dear Warden yet?”

Alistair blushed and cast a worried glance to Bridget ahead. Thankfully, she had not heard Zevran’s whispers. Alistair’s eyes dropped to her hips and lingered momentarily. They switched to light armor since they were sneaking about. Bridget wore black leggings and knee-high boots with a light chainmail cuirass. Wearing heavy plate mostly, Alistair always looked forward to when Bridget wore casual clothing or lighter mail so that he could appreciate the curvature of her body that much more.

Zevran followed Alistair’s gaze and chuckled to himself. He snapped his fingers to pull Alistair out of his trance. He flushed deeply and looked away, though Zevran noted how his eyes kept shifting for a quick glance.

            “No…not yet.” He replied begrudgingly.

Zevran raised an eyebrow and cast Alistair a curious glance.

            “And why not?” the assassin asked.

Alistair heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his hands together nervously.

            “I am waiting for the right moment, that’s all.” He confessed.

Zevran ‘tsked’ softly and shook his head.

            “Then you will be waiting an eternity, my friend. You must seize these opportunities when they arise, lest you lose your chance!”

Bridget stopped abruptly and held out her arm to signal Zevran and Alistair to do the same. They did so and Bridget tipped her head to the side to beckon Zevran closer. The assassin slinked over to his friend carefully and caught a glimpse of steel in the sunlight on top of the wall.

            “Hmm…sentries. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

A brilliant idea slipped into Zevran’s mind at that moment, and he smiled at himself like a satisfied cat. He turned to face Bridget and Alistair and motioned towards the wall.

            “I do not wish to place you two in needless danger. Wait here while I…use my skills, and I will come back for you.”

Before Bridget or Alistair could agree to his plan, Zevran disappeared into the shadows. Bridget glanced at Alistair and shrugged as she sat down on a nearby log. She withdrew her wineskin and took a deep draw of water, then offered a sip to Alistair. He took the wineskin and drank deeply as well, his mouth suddenly dry. He sat next to Bridget and rested his arms atop his knees.

The two Wardens were quiet for a moment. Alistair felt hot under the collar of his shirt. He glanced at Bridget and noticed that she was twirling her hair around her finger and doing her best not to look at him. He started to speak, and Bridget did the same. They both glanced at each other and chuckled. Maker, why was this so difficult? Alistair had the rose in his pack, but the thought of giving it to Bridget made his stomach flop unpleasantly.

Alistair looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

            “I…um—”

He turned his attention back to Bridget and the rest of his sentence died in the back of his throat as she leaned forward and kissed him. Alistair’s eyes grew wide and his whole body froze as his brain tried to discern if this was happening. Bridget broke the kiss and drew her brows together as she flushed furiously.

            “That…wasn’t too soon, was it?” she asked in a small voice.

Alistair blinked and shook his head.

            “Um…no, but I may be a little biased in my answer,” he replied with a blush.

Bridget smiled at him and gently placed her hand to the side of his face.

            “I’m not scared anymore. I mean, I am but…I know now that I can mourn Willem and still explore these feelings, I have for you at the same time. My heart is not conflicted as it was before. I care for you, Alistair…I care for you quite a lot.” Bridget confessed.

An ogre could have spawned next to them at this very moment and Alistair wouldn’t have cared. He felt like a feather floating through a gentle breeze on a cool summer morning. He took Bridget’s hands in his and gently placed a kiss to her fingers.

            “I care for you as well. A lot,” he added with a chuckle.

Bridget smiled at him warmly and slid closer.

            “We should take things slow…” she whispered as she bumped her nose against his.

Alistair cleared his throat and laughed nervously.

            “Hmm…yes. I think that’s a good idea,” he replied slowly, as he rested his forehead against hers.

Bridget traced the outline of his lips with her fingertip and tipped her head to the side.

            “We should gauge what’s appropriate now and what we can work up to…later.”

She said in a sultry whisper as she leaned forward and gently placed a kiss to Alistair’s neck. Alistair’s face burned.

            “Mm hmm,” he replied absentmindedly as he ran his hand down Bridget’s hair.

Alistair felt her lips curve into a smile against his neck.

            “Is this, okay?” she asked as she placed another kiss just below his jawbone.

Alistair swallowed and nodded as he tentatively placed his hands on Bridget’s hips.

            “Yes, can I put my hands here?” he asked softly.

Bridget nodded her head as she trailed her kiss up from his jaw back to his lips. Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Alistair felt like his heart was going to burst when their lips met again. Tentative and ever so hesitant at first until they were heady with desire and lust. Before Alistair realized it, he had lifted Bridget onto his lap. She broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow at him now that she was practically straddling him.

            “Too fast?” Alistair asked gruffly, his voice thick with desire.  

Bridget blushed and laughed as she shook her head.

            “Not at all,” she replied.

Their lips met again, only this time, neither of the Wardens were hesitant. The caress of Alistair’s lips on her mouth and along her neck set Bridget aflame. Their mouths covered each other’s hungrily. All the longing, those sidelong glances across camp, the gentle brushing of hands, all of it cumulated to this stolen moment under the cedar tree.

Other emotions and passions began to swirl and flow throughout their bodies. Bridget could feel a familiar warmth and pool of desire between her legs as she felt Alistair’s arousal against her thigh. When he realized she could feel him, he broke the kiss and shot her a worried glance, an apology perched on his tongue, but she placed her finger to his lips and shushed him.

“It’s natural, don’t be embarrassed,” she reassured him in a breathy whisper.

She shifted her weight to relieve some of the pressure for them both and Alistair groaned. He took a deep breath and released it.

            “Could you…do that again?” he asked softly.

Bridget flushed, but admitted that it had felt good to her too. She rocked her hips forward again and gasped as she felt Alistair’s hands sneak to her bottom. He withdrew them as quickly as he had placed them, but Bridget shook her head and grabbed his hands. She placed them back on her bottom firmly and gave him a seductive smile.

            “I like your hands there,” she admitted.

Alistair moaned again as Bridget rolled her hips once more. His lips descended upon hers with a savage ferocity that sent waves of desire through Bridget’s veins. When Alistair wrenched his lips away and placed a tantalizing kiss at the hollow of her neck, Bridget’s head lolled back as Alistair shyly moved his hips into her. His eagerness only fanned the flames of desire that much more. So lost in each other were they, that they failed to hear Zevran approach. The assassin emerged from the shadows and grinned satisfactorily to see that his plan had worked.

            “Ahem. Kiss her any harder and you will swallow her, my friend,” he stated calmly.

Bridget and Alistair tore away from each other, their faces red and ridden with guilt. Zevran placed his hands on his hips and chuckled heartily as Alistair looked away, embarrassed. He bounced his leg vigorously so that he could stand without the elf noticing anything else.

Bridget cleared her throat and looked away from Zevran, slightly ashamed that she let her baser nature get the best of her, but slowly turned her head back to him as an awful smell filled the air.

            “Zevran…what is all over your clothes?” she asked slowly, almost fearful of the answer.

Zevran chuckled and crossed his arms.

            “Well…while dispatching the sentries, I found a way into the city! Although ah…it is not the most glamourous of entrances, to be sure.” He stated.

Alistair grimaced as he joined them and caught a whiff of Zevran.

            “Oh, don’t tell me—” he began.

Zevran scrunched his nose and nodded.

            “Indeed. We’re going in where everything else comes out. Prepare yourself for a lovely excursion through the rat-infested sewer!” he exclaimed.

Bridget and Alistair looked at each other unpleasantly. Zevran shrugged.

            “It’s the only way in from what I’ve seen. You two may fare a little better since you won’t be dragging bodies in there. I also slipped on something very awful and slid in the muck, as you can see. This Genitivi that you seek, his house is not far from the sewer entrance.”

Bridget grimaced at the thought of crawling through the sewers, but if it meant they could get in and out of Denerim without much fuss, she nodded her head and Zevran led them back through the path he had just made. Traversing the sewers wasn’t as bad as Bridget thought, other than the putrid smell. Alistair kept gagging behind her and heaved several times like he was going to be sick.

Soon, light from the city crept in through the barred entrance. Zevran picked the lock again quickly and the three friends exited the sewers deftly. Thankfully, no one hung around the sewer entrance, so the companions were able to disappear into a back alley quickly and quietly without anyone being the wiser. After consulting the notes Teagan had given her, Bridget led her friends to Genitivi’s house. Zevran peeked around the corner and noted more guards off in the distance.

            “I will keep watch, just in case. Call for me should you need me,” he stated.

Bridget nodded and Zevran sunk into the shadows. She gave Alistair a hopeful glance and knocked on the door gently. They both heard shuffling inside.

            “Who’s there?” a nervous voice replied.

Bridget furrowed her brow and cast another glance towards Alistair. His hand was already poised over the hilt of his sword, just in case.

            “We seek the scholar, Brother Genitivi,” Bridget answered truthfully.

More shuffling and footsteps. Suddenly, the door opened and a young man with hair black as night stood on the other side. He looked around nervously outside and then ushered Bridget and Alistair inside. Bridget comfortably rested her hand atop the hilt of her sword as well as a foreboding aura seeped into her soul.

            “I am sorry for being so apprehensive, my name is Weylon, I am Brother Genitivi’s assistant,” the young man said.

He gestured for them to make themselves comfortable and began to start a kettle for tea, despite Bridget’s insistence that such a gesture was not needed.

            “Is Brother Genitivi here?” she inquired.

Weylon turned to face her and drew his brows together.

            “I have not heard from Genitivi in weeks. The last I had, he said he was staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad and investigating something in that area.”

Alistair frowned.

            “We were in Lake Calenhad not long ago and saw no trace of him,” he replied.

Bridget hid her smile, cunning tactic, she thought, seeing as how they were not aware of Genitivi’s existence during their time near the docks.

Weylon shrugged and sighed.

            “He was not one to stay in one place for very long. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is or if he’s even alive. Some knights from Redcliffe came looking for him too and I’ve told you what I told them. He was looking into the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and I fear that his research has put him in danger.”

Bridget quirked a brow.

            “What kind of danger, what do you know?” she asked.

Weylon shot his gaze to her.

            “I don’t know anything! All I know from his paperwork was that Genitivi stated he would be traveling to Lake Calenhad! That’s it, I swear!”

Bridget and Alistair shared a furtive glance.

            “I thought you said Genitivi told you that he was going to Lake Calenhad?” Alistair asked slowly.

Weylon whipped around to face Alistair.

            “He did! He…oh Andraste’s mercy I grow weary of this façade!”

Before either Bridget or Alistir could react, Weylon conjured an orb of air and shot it at Bridget. She flew against the wall and landed against a bookshelf; several books fell around her at the impact. Weylon turned on Alistair next, he conjured another orb, this one of ice, but just as he completed the spell, a dagger flew in the nearby window and delved itself into the side of his neck. Weylon gurgled as the magic died in his hands and fell over, his blood seeped into the wooden floor. Alistair ran over to Bridget to help her stand as Zevran, in true assassin fashion, slipped in through the window carefully. The companions stared down at Weylon and sighed.

            “Great…now what are we supposed to do?” Alistair asked.

Zevran stuck his nose in the air and grimaced.

            “Hmm…there is a smell here that I recognize, and it has nothing to do with the sewers.”

After some snooping around, Bridget and the others came to a locked door. Zevran knelt in front of it and picked the lock within seconds. He held his dagger carefully and pushed the door open, jumping inside with Bridget and Alistair covering his flank. As soon as the companions entered the room, they were met with the awful smell that had filtered into the living area. A corpse lay atop the floor, it looked as if it had been dead for more than a month.

            “The mage must have kept it on ice using his magic to preserve and combat the smell,” Zevran noted.

The companions looked around the small room to find anything of note. Alistair rummaged through a nearby bookshelf, taking out books and shaking them to see if any hidden clues would fall out. Bridget searched a nearby desk and found a leatherbound journal. She opened it and began to scan the contents.

            “Where is the village of Haven located?” she asked curiously.

Alistair drew his brows together.

            “I think near the Frostbacks, beyond Honneleath.” He stated.

Bridget groaned and tossed the journal atop the desk. She pinched the bridge of her nose and released a frustrated sigh.

            “That’s where Genitivi’s gone. His most recent entry was weeks ago and that’s where he stated he was going.”

Zevran clicked his tongue.

            “Hmm…quite the journey for a relic.” He noted.

Bridget sighed and picked the journal back up. She shoved it into her pack and led the others out of the abandoned house, stepping over ‘Weylon’s’ body as they did so. Back outside, Bridget frowned. She knew once she broke the news that the party would need to backtrack all the way to the western side of Ferelden, she would be met with backlash. She was in no hurry to depart Denerim. She’d rather risk running into Loghain and his men than face Morrigan’s ire.

Alistair reminded Bridget about his sister, so she and Zevran accompanied him. Thankfully, Goldana did not live near the bustling market, and they were able to reach her home by traversing the back alleys. The only other people they encountered were beggars too old and feeble to attempt anything. As they approached the quaint and modest home, a woman who was hanging laundry outside came into view.

Bridget raised her eyebrows and gave Alistair an encouraging smile when he glanced at her nervously. Zevran hung back once again to keep an eye out.

            “Um…excuse me, are you Goldana?” Alistair asked softly.

The woman turned around and faced them. She had a pointed face and her mouth looked as if it had been set into a permeant frown. She narrowed her eyes at Alistair suspiciously.

            “Yes, that’s me. You need wash done? You smell like the pig’s stye.” She replied flatly.

Alistair chuckled nervously.

            “Ah, no. I’m here because well…we share a mother. She was a serving girl at the castle and,”

Something flashed behind Goldana’s eyes that Bridget couldn’t place, but she didn’t like it. Goldana wiped her hands on her apron and narrowed her eyes at Alistair.

            “You. I knew you were alive! The castle sure tried to tell me you had died with mother! Bought my silence for a shilling they did—which didn’t last long! When I went back, they ran me off!”

Alistair drew his brows together and shook his head.

            “I’m sorry…I didn’t know. But, well I’m here now, I’m your brother and,”

Goldana scoffed.

            “The good that does me. Unless you want to see to it that your nieces and nephews are taken care of, I’ve no want for a royal arsed brother.”

Alistair was at a loss for words. Seeing him struggle, Bridget intervened.

            “Goldana,” she began gently, “Alistair came here in hopes to find his family—”

Alistair’s ‘sister’ turned her spiteful gaze onto Bridget and eyed her up and down.

            “And who in the Maker’s name are you? Some tart following him for his riches?”

Bridget blinked and bit her tongue so hard she nearly bit in half. But she didn’t want to say anything that would upset Alistair more than he already was.

            “Hold your tongue! She’s my friend and a Grey Warden—” Alistair began.

Goldana rolled her eyes.

            “Ooh a prince and a Grey Warden too? Well, who am I to compare to someone so high and mighty as that! I don’t know you boy and I don’t care too. Now, get off my property and don’t come back lest you have some gold to spare.”

Goldana spat at Alistair’s feet and turned her attention back to the laundry hanging on the line. She yanked it down furiously and stomped off to her house, slamming the door behind her. Bridget could feel the tension emanating off Alistair. She turned to face him and her heart broke as she noticed tears in his eyes. He blinked them away and frowned.

            “Let’s go, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Bridget drew her brows together and reached for Alistair’s hand, but he snatched it away and walked ahead. Zevran fell into step with Bridget as she took the lead and led them back to the sewer entrance. By dusk, they had returned to camp where Leliana had made sandwiches for everyone. Bridget dropped herself in front of the fire and sighed tiredly, dreading the conversation that was to come. Once all the companions were around the fire, Wynne was the first to break the silence.

            “Was Genitivi within the city? Is he able to help us?” she asked hopefully.

Bridget chewed on her bread very slowly and flicked her eyes to Morrigan. The mage was already boring her golden gaze into her, and Bridget sensed that Morrigan already had a feeling what she was about to say. She took a deep breath as she swallowed and sighed.

            “He wasn’t there…but we know where he is located.” She stated.

Bridget looked at them and frowned.

            “He’s in Haven, near the Frostbacks—” she began, and was immediately interrupted with several groans of disappointment. And of course, Morrigan offered her opinion.

            “You do realize that’s on the western side of Ferelden? Several weeks of traveling away?” she prodded.

Before Bridget could respond, Morrigan continued.

            “I do not see the logic in wasting more time in search of a relic, a myth for one man whom we do not even know we can save! How many more Lotherings must fall before you realize that you are wasting precious time against the Darkspawn? How many more innocent lives are you willing to sacrifice on the chance of saving one man?”

Bridget cut her eyes to Morrigan and stood.

            “You are not the leader here, Morrigan, I am,” she snapped, “I am doing what I think is best! Maker knows I have the entire world on my shoulders, and I do not need judgement from you nor anyone in this group on if I am deciding the right course of action!”

Morrigan fired right back.

            “I am merely stating that you are so incredibly bent on saving any sad sot we come across, yet for this man you let hundreds die as you continue to waste time! You have a savior complex, Warden, and it stems from not being able to save your family! You must realize not everyone can be saved, but the lives of many should greatly outweigh the life of one man on his death bed!”

Bridget blinked as she clenched her jaw, she would not shed a tear.

            “Well, if you think I’m doing such a piss poor job at leading, why don’t you do it, then?”

Morrigan raised her eyebrows.

            “Because, this is not my journey, but yours, Bridget. I am only being practical with my thoughts, just as everyone else here is,” she replied coolly.

Bridget released a frustrated snarl and stomped away. She needed time to herself, away from the whispers of her companions and away from the eyes that looked upon her with pity. Bridget made her way to the water’s edge and realized she still smelled like that foul sewer and began to strip off her clothes. She braced herself for the coolness of the water and went in deeper until it covered her up to her chest. And now, alone with only the moon as her witness, Bridget wept. She placed her hands over her eyes as her body shook with sobs. Morrigan was right, she knew that. She did have this innate need to save everyone she could. Perhaps she was risking too much on this mad hunt for the Urn.

            “Bridget?”

Bridget sucked in a breath as she heard Alistair’s soft voice. She folded her arms over her chest and turned to face him and couldn’t help but smile as she saw him standing with his back to her. Ever the gentleman.

            “I thought you might need some soap.” He offered bashfully.

Bridget laughed lightly and nodded. As she waded in the water towards him, she noticed too that he was still covered in filth. As Bridget took the soap from his outstretched hand, a coy smile curved her lips.

            “Want to join me?” she asked shyly.

Alistair snapped his head around to face her, then quickly shut his eyes and looked away, embarrassed.

            “Ah…um…join you? But you’re bathing, that’s so very personal and I…um.”

Maker above why couldn’t he just say yes? He certainly wanted to! Bridget laughed and waded back to her previous spot in the water, so she was fully covered.

            “It’s deep enough where we can still be modest,” she noted.  

Alistair glanced back towards the camp. While he was sure everyone was well enough away where prying eyes wouldn’t bother them, he was still unsure. However, when would another chance like this pose itself? He began to quickly pull at his clasps and buckles.

            “Alright just…no peeking while I get in!” he exclaimed.

Bridget looked away respectfully and began to lather herself up with the soap while Alistair undressed. She heard him enter the body of water and when he said it was alright for her to look, she turned around to see him on the completely other side of the lake. Bridget snorted.

            “Well, what are you doing all the way over there?” she asked.

Alistair’s face was as red as she’d ever seen it. He blinked and looked around, realizing that he had given Bridget the only bar of soap. He blushed furiously again as he waded towards her all the while she smiled at him sweetly, innocently, yet she was anything but. When he stood in front of her, she held the soap out to him freely. Alistair gave her a suspicious glance and quickly took it from her hand, half expecting her to snatch it away. To his surprise, however, she didn’t. Instead, Bridget turned her back to him and tossed her hair gently over her shoulder. She turned her head and cast him a shy gaze.

            “Could you…wash my hair?” she asked softly.

Alistair nearly let the soap slip from his hand he was so taken aback by her request. Of his own accord, his hands moved to her hair and lathered it in soap. He ran his hands down the length of Bridget’s golden tresses, paying careful attention not to pull her hair or make it knot. Despite the coldness of the water, Alistair felt like his body was on fire. The erotic nature of this whole moment left him rock hard and full of longing, of wanting.

            “Your hair is so beautiful…even in the moonlight it’s like a piece of the sun is held within your locks. It feels good to be able to say that now instead of just thinking it.”

Bridget smiled and Alistair began to rinse the soap from her hair. As the water trickled down her back and the sides of her face, she slowly turned to face him. They had moved to a shallower area in the lake, and Bridget stood before him with her chest bared to him. She noted how his jaw clenched as his gaze fell from her eyes to her breasts.

Bridget shivered in anticipation. She felt beautiful under Alistair’s gaze. Her skin was bumpy with gooseflesh due to the chill of the water and the air. Her mounds were pert and pink, a tantalizing site under the heat of his eyes. Bridget gently took Alistair’s hand and placed it atop the hollow of her throat. She watched him swallow nervously.

            “Too fast?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alistair cleared his throat.

            “Again, you may find my answer to be a bit biased,” he replied with a bashful grin.

Bridget smiled shyly at him as she slowly moved his hand down until he held her breast. She sucked in a breath, as did Alistair. He held her gently in his hand, as if she were clay and he the potterer, contemplating his next creation.

            “So soft,” he murmured.

Despite being a virgin, some things, Alistair, realized, just came naturally. He dipped his head forward and placed a tender kiss to the side of Bridget’s neck as he continued to massage her breasts. His right hand joined his left and he carefully traced circles around her mounds and kneaded her with such a tenderness that he made Bridget’s knees weak.  

Bridget’s breath hitched in her throat as Alistair gently sucked at her neck. She moaned softly and placed her hand on the side of his face, lifting his head back up to look at her.. The water lapped gently around them from their movements. The sounds of the night filled the air with their hot breath and complacent sighs. Bridget placed a tender kiss to his lips that was enveloped by desire only moments later. Alistair pulled her into his chest and gasped into her mouth when he felt her breasts against him.

Their eyes fluttered closed, and the world melted away around them to where their only focus, their only concern, was each other. So lost they were in each other’s arms, that at first, they didn’t hear anything, but then, an ear-splitting scream from camp tore them apart. Duty settling in their veins and dousing the flames of desire, Bridget and Alistair rushed back to the water’s edge. They dressed quickly and ran as fast as their legs would carry them back to camp where absolute chaos had struck.  

A hefty horde of thirty or more Darkspawn had attacked the camp! The horses neighed, terrified of the gruesome creatures. The entire camp was in disarray as the companions fought for their lives. Bridget and Alistair grabbed their gear and joined in battle. Morrigan shouted at them and asked where they had been. Neither Warden had time to think of a response as the horde continued their assault. Another scream and Bridget saw Leliana fall. She rushed to her friend’s side and lifted her shield to block a devastating blow from a Hurlock.

Alistair untied the horses’ reigns and slapped their bottoms, urging them to escape. He’d rather they run on the loose versus witness them fall to the hands of the Darkspawn. As the companions continued to fight, they realized they would have to abandon their campsite and lose the Darkspawn in the bramble of the forest. Bridget placed Leliana’s arm over her shoulder and supported her as they fled.

Zevran sliced and cut as many Darkspawn down as he could, giving Bridget and Leliana cover. Morrigan was the last to follow the companions into the woods. She drew upon her magic and unleashed a firestorm within the small area. As she heard the gurgling, dying cries of the Darkspawn, she hurried after the others. Growing up in the Wilds, she was able to traverse through wooded bramble very easy, careful to watch out for any roots that wished to trip her. Once she caught up to the others, they continued running for a few miles before they stopped.

Bridget carefully set Leliana to the ground with Alistair’s help. Wynne was by her side instantly and healed the gash in her leg. Morrigan paced and shot an accusatory glance at Bridget and Alistair.

            “And just where were you two? I thought you were supposed to be able to sense these blasted things? Now we have no horses, most of our supplies have been destroyed, and the bard has been injured! So, I ask again, where were you?”

Bridget and Alistair looked at each other, ashamed. No one else made any other comment, other than Leliana trying to reassure everyone that she was okay. Bridget cursed under her breath. She had no idea where exactly in the Brecelian Forest they were.

The companions took a minute to regroup, then pressed on. The air was cold, having not been able to properly dry herself earlier, Bridget shivered as she pulled her cloak around her. She was covered in Darkspawn blood and mud to boot. So much for a relaxing bath. As they continued to trudge through the forest, Bridget couldn’t help but feel eyes upon her. She instinctively drew closer to Alistair, who also kept a watchful eye about.

            “There’s supposed to be a Dalish Elf encampment somewhere within the forest,” Alistair noted.

Bridget sighed. With the incredible luck she had lately, she doubt they would just stumble upon them. Zevran turned his attention towards the others and raised his eyebrows.

            “How lucky you are to have me, then! The Dalish are well known for laying traps the closer one comes to their encampment. Lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in detecting—”

Before Zevran could finish his sentence, he felt his foot snag on either a rope or a wire. He drew his brows together as the air grew very still. Suddenly, the companions found themselves scooped up in a large net. Their limbs flailed about aimlessly as they were very much like fish caught by the fisherman’s net!

            “What was that about being an expert?” Alistair asked.

Morrigan groaned.

            “And now the rogue of the party has managed to ensnare us in some infernal device! What good are you, assassin, if you cannot even detect a simple trap such as this!” she exclaimed angrily.

Zevran shrugged.

            “It’s not like anyone else saw it either!” he retorted.

Leliana and Wynne both winced as elbows of their friends dug into their sides.

            “How are we going to get out of this thing? Can anyone reach their blades?” she asked desperately.

All the companions began to move and squirm about at once. Morrigan’s eyes widened as she tried to crane her neck to look behind her.

            “Whoever has their hand on my bum has five seconds to remove it if they wish to keep it!” she growled.

Alistair rolled his eyes.

            “Oh please, it’s not as if I put it there on purpose! We’re all kind of jumbled together in case you hadn’t noticed,” he shouted irritably.

Bridget strained her ears to listen and shushed her companions. She thought she heard a bird’s call…but it was far too late in the evening for the birds to sing. Again, it was very faint, but she heard a distinct tweet. Suddenly, figures jumped down from within the trees and surrounded the captured friends. The Dalish scouts had their spears turned on the companions and their eyes narrowed.

            “Well…looks like we found the Dalish.” Leliana whispered.

The elves began to speak their language amongst themselves as they gently prodded Bridget and her friends within the great net. Alistair’s eyes widened.

            “Zevran! You’re an elf, can’t you tell them we’re friendly?” he asked hopefully.

Zevran tried to maneuver his body to face where he suspected Alistair’s voice had come from. Bridget’s elbow dug into the side of his face uncomfortably.

            “My good friend Alistair, how very presumptuous of you! Just because I am an elf does not mean that I know the Dalish ways! You forget, I grew up in an Antivan whorehouse! I’m afraid the only other language I know besides the common tongue,” he explained as he shifted his eyes and turned his head to the Dalish warrior nearest him.

            “Is the language of love,” he finished as he waggled his eyebrows.

The warrior took no pleasure in his obvious flirting and said something sharply to her companion. The leader of the scouts stepped forward and scanned her eyes over Bridget and her friends carefully.

            “What brings you here? This is sacred land, our land. We do not take kindly to visitors, especially those who are unwelcome.” She stated.

Bridget wiggled herself to face the scout leader from within the confines of the tent. She explained the Darkspawn attack and that they were Grey Wardens, that they were here to conscript the help of the Dalish as the age-old treaty promised. Upon hearing this news, the leader fell into conversation with the other elves. Many of them shook their heads, while only a few contemplated what Bridget had said.

The scout leader turned a wary eye back to Bridget and her friends and sighed. After a moment, she instructed her crew to begin to cut them down and out of the net. The other elves still had their spears poised and at the ready, willing to strike at any given moment.

            “I will take you to our Keeper and you can tell him your fantastical tale. He can then decide if you are truthful or not.” She stated.

Bridget stuck out her chin and nodded in agreement. With only the moon lighting their way, they followed the mysterious Dalish warriors deeper into the woods, wary yet eager to meet this Keeper and secure the elves’ aide against the Blight.

But of course…things were never quite that easy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

The Dalish Encampment

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Dalish Camp

Bridget and her friends carefully followed the Dalish scouts deeper into the wood. The moon shined brightly against the night sky and was their only source of light. Around them, the other scouts still had their weapons poised at their backs, watching keenly, and waiting for any reason to attack. The wind danced with the tree branches and the night dwellers sung all kinds of songs, from the owl’s hoot to the low growl of something more sinister hidden within.

Soon enough, Bridget could make out small shapes in the distance and she realized that they must be getting closer to the camp. Upon reaching the entrance, a young elven mage approached them. Worry clouded her deep green eyes as she drew her brows together and addressed the scout leader in their language. Bridget waited patiently; she was not familiar with Dalish custom and didn’t want to step on any toes accidentally due to her ignorance.

After a heated conversation, the mage and the scout leader turned their attention to Bridget and the others. She released a soft sigh of relief when the scouts lowered their weapons but could still feel their eyes boring into her back. The mage stepped forward.

            “Greetings, stranger, my name is Lanaya. Mithras tells me that you are a Grey Warden. Our Keeper, Zathrian, is currently meditating and cannot be disturbed until morning. You look as if you have been through a great deal to reach us. We are normally…. quite wary of entertaining those outside of our clan, however, I am extending you an olive branch because you are a Grey Warden.”

Bridget bowed her head respectfully.

            “I appreciate the kindness and offer, Lanaya. We graciously accept, and just so you know, we are only here to ask for help for the Blight and we hope we are not too disruptive.”

Lanaya nodded.

            “Indeed, you will need to speak to Zathrian about that. As I mentioned, he cannot be disturbed until morning. Please, take this time to wash and rest; we have some extra space set aside where you can clean up and sleep.”

The thought of washing the dried blood that was caked to Bridget’s skin made her brighten considerably. As she and her friends followed Lanaya into the encampment, Bridget noted several thatched huts made together with thick mud, sticks, and straw nearby. After her friends were each split up and taken to different huts for the night, Lanaya brought Bridget to a small one for herself.

            “If there is anything that you need, please do not hesitate to ask. Come the morning, I will escort you to Zathrian.”

Bridget thanked Lanaya and stepped into the hovel. Despite being small, it was warm and cozy on the inside. A roaring fire burned in the pit within the center of the room that cast playful shadows that danced across the walls.

Bridget sighed and rolled her shoulders. She dropped her pack on the ground and quickly found the pail of fresh water that sat nearby. She pulled her shirt over her head and undressed quickly, eager to wash away the memory of the Darkspawn from earlier. As the cool water ran down Bridget’s face and through her hair, she was once again swamped with guilt for leaving her friends alone in the camp.  

She should have known that their location was vulnerable—it would have been so easy for Darkspawn to lie in wait, hidden amongst the shadows of the trees. And now that they had lost nearly all their supplies, the horses, and Leliana had been injured…Bridget sighed as she blinked back tears. All she had wanted was one moment to herself to cry in peace but then, Alistair showed up and, well…was it so wrong for Bridget to be selfish for once? Why did it seem like she wasn’t allowed to have small moments alone with Alistair?

As she finished washing her hair and body, Bridget squeezed out the excess water from her hair and rummaged in her pack. She donned a pair of fresh small clothes and a clean, linen shirt that was a size too large for her. Bridget groaned when she realized she lacked an extra pair of pants or leggings and quickly used the left-over water to wash her clothes. She carefully laid them by the fire to dry and sat in front of the flames to warm herself and dry her hair.

            “Bridget? Can I come in?”

Alistair’s voice startled her, but she called out to him to let him know it was okay. Alistair emerged as he pushed the flap out of the entryway and blushed immediately as he noticed Bridget’s state of undress.

            “Oh…I’m sorry, I’ll come back!” he exclaimed, and turned to leave but Bridget stopped him.

            “You saw more of me at the lake than right now, you know,” she chuckled.

Alistair rubbed his neck bashfully as he sat down next to her. He wore a deep blue tunic that stretched nicely across his broad shoulders and grey breeches that clung to his strong thighs and legs.

            “That’s ah…what I wanted to talk to you about,” he stated.

Bridget blinked nervously and nodded for him to continue, mentally bracing herself for what he would say next.

Alistair drew a small circle in the dirt floor and adverted his eyes.

            “Maybe it was a bad idea to leave the others alone without a Grey Warden nearby,” he began.

Bridget nodded and chewed her bottom lip as her stomach filled with nerves.

            “I agree…I’m sorry, that was stupid of me--coercing you into the lake when you didn’t want to join in the first place.”

Alistair lifted his gaze to hers and raised his eyebrows.

            “Oh no, I wanted to join. I just didn’t want to…I don’t know, make you uncomfortable? Since you said we should take it slow, I figured…ugh Maker, I’m so bad at this! What I’m trying to say is, even though we almost lost everything, and Leliana got hurt I…well…I just wanted to let you know, that I don’t regret anything that happened between us,” he admitted softly.

Bridget’s eyes widened.

            “You don’t?”

Alistair’s flush deepened and he shook his head.

            “No. And…I already talked to Leliana and apologized. She doesn’t blame either one of us. I think she was actually very interested in what we were up to--which I didn’t tell her of course!” he added quickly.

Bridget blushed and smiled at him as she breathed a sigh of relief, so thankful that Alistair, once again, made her feel better. In his presence, Bridget was finally able to relax. She stole a glance at him and noticed a notch between his brows as he was gazing intently into the fire.

Bridget moved a little closer to him and placed her hand atop his.

            “Something on your mind? I’m here for you if you want to talk about anything, you know that, right?”

Alistair sighed and nodded, giving her a small, sad smile as he gently took her fingers in his hand and lightly squeezed them.

            “I guess I…well…I don’t really know what I had hoped for with Goldana. Love? Acceptance? Family? I don’t know. The whole thing just makes me feel like an idiot. It was a waste of time and a stupid request. Duncan was the only family I had, and he’s gone now. I should just accept the fact that I don’t have a family and move on.”

Bridget drew her brows together and shook her head as she scooted closer to him.

            “You know…I thought the same thing after Howe took my loved ones away from me…But I realized something recently: family doesn’t have to be about blood. You can find family within your friends. Everyone else…me…we can be your family.”

Alistair blinked slowly as he absorbed the meaning of Bridget’s words. She stood and walked over to her pack nearby. Alistair couldn’t help but admire her legs as she walked away from him, but quickly adverted his eyes when she turned around to walk back.

When Bridget sat back down next to Alistair, she placed a small wooden anchor in his palm and closed his hand around it. She lifted her gaze to his and smiled at him. Alistair looked at her curiously.

            “I bought it when we were in South Reach. It symbolizes what you are to me, my anchor. You keep me grounded when I get overwhelmed or wrought with grief. No one else can do that but you, Alistair. So, when I saw this trinket, I thought of you, and I thought maybe it would remind you of me and my feelings for you.”

Alistair felt his heart swell as he ran his fingers delicately over the small anchor. He smiled and looked at Bridget.

            “Wow…I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a gift from anyone before, but this makes the perfect first one.”

Alistair grinned as he put his arms around Bridget and hugged her tightly. Bridget blushed and grinned. Alistair then slipped the anchor into his pocket and mentally cursed himself. Now would have been the perfect time to give Bridget the rose, but he had left his pack in his hut and certainly didn’t want to leave to go get it. Instead, he turned his eyes back to Bridget and leaned forward to bump his nose against hers.

            “You know…I suppose the nights we aren’t on duty, once everyone else is occupied or asleep, we could, you know,” she began suggestively.

Alistair raised his eyebrows.

            “Oh, I’m not sure I do know, what ever could you be suggesting?” he asked innocently.

Bridget giggled. She searched his eyes for a moment and leaned forward to claim his mouth in a soft kiss. Alistair breathed in deeply as he slowly wrapped his arms around her frame.

What started off soft and sweet soon became something much deeper. Alistair moved his mouth over Bridget’s, devouring her softness. He groaned as she climbed back atop his lap and straddled him just as she had when they were alone outside Denerim. Their kiss broke for a moment and the headiness of desire passed between the two of them like a gentle caress. Alistair cupped Bridget’s face in his hands. The fire crackling beside them made her hair glow beautifully.

He kissed her again and trailed his kisses from her mouth down her throat and to her neck. Bridget bit her lip and moaned softly as she felt herself become more aroused. She carefully rolled her hips into Alistair’s again and gasped when she felt his arousal pressed against her warm center. Alistair pulled back and looked at her. His expression was pleading as he slowly laid back against the floor and asked,

            “Do that again…please?”  

Bridget smiled shyly and raised an eyebrow as she settled herself over him and wiggled herself on top of his arousal. Alistair sucked in a breath as Bridget moaned softly. Though his smalls and breeches kept him from feeling Bridget completely, the contact was still enough to quicken his pulse and make his head spin.

Bridget leaned over him and claimed his mouth hotly as she began to rock her hips against his. Alistair’s hands roamed all of Bridget’s back until they found their way to her bottom. He gripped her curves appreciatively in his large hands, and Bridget gasped excitedly as Alistair kissed her harder, their tongues entwining in a heated dance.  

Alistair slipped into a bliss he had never experienced before. As he held Bridget to his strong form, feeling her softness and curves against the hard contours of his body, he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter closed as he focused on the feel of her lips against his own. When he felt Bridget’s fingertips dance underneath his tunic, Alistair sucked in a breath and groaned appreciatively. He began to move his hips in time with hers, and as she released pleasured moans and mewls, Alistair felt his breath quicken as the pull in his lower abdomen grew.

Another rock of her delicious hips against his, feeling her heat grind onto his arousal was Alistair’s undoing. A sea of stars exploded behind his eyes as his back arched and he trembled with release.

            “Ah…ah!” he groaned.

Alistair sat up and held Bridget close as she rested her forehead against his and ran her fingers through his hair and massaged the base of his skull. A breath passed between them as their noses bumped.

When Alistair’s breathing finally returned to normal and the sea of desire parted, a sudden realization dawned upon him. As clarity seeped in, a deep flush spread across his cheeks. Bridget pulled back slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the wing of his nose and smiled.

            “Alistair…” she whispered softly, her voice thick with desire.

But the moment had passed. Alistair realized what he had done, and the embarrassment associated with it completely killed his mood. He moved quickly, nearly pushing Bridget completely from him as he did so. He mumbled an apology and, like a puppy with its tail between its legs, rushed out of the hut as fast as he could. Bridget called after him, but it was no use.

Bridget frowned and worried if she had done something wrong. She played back their encounter in her head and remembered every fine detail, remembered the feel of Alistair’s arousal pressed against her, how his breathing had quickened and how he had moaned…

            Oh.

Bridget blushed but also couldn’t help but grin. He had climaxed and gotten embarrassed! Maker, he really was adorably innocent. She’d have to reassure him in the morning that things like this just happened and it wasn’t anything to be bashful over. Bridget laid back against her cot and stared into the dying fire. The pool of desire was still swirling in her lower abdomen. Bridget let her eyes flutter close as her hand caressed her body until she reached the band of her small clothes.

She smiled as she slipped her hand beneath the band and filled her thoughts of Alistair. His tender kisses, the strong protectiveness of his embrace, the way he trembled and moaned when he reached his climax soon had Bridget trembling from her own. As the blissful high of release wore off, Bridget settled herself into her cot and let sleep overtake her.

xXx

The following morning, Alistair stood outside of his tent, still embarrassed over what happened between himself and Bridget the night before and wondering how he would even look her in the eyes today. He frowned disapprovingly towards Zevran’s hut as the elven assassin escorted the scout he had flirted with that night, from his hut. They both looked disheveled and extremely satisfied. Zevran was shirtless and the early morning rays illuminated his golden skin and showcased the array of tattoos that decorated him. Zevran felt Alistair’s eyes on him and turned to face him as he put on his shirt. There was a keen look in his eye and Alistair braced himself for whatever the elf was going to say.

            “So…?” Alistair asked.

Zevran laughed and shook his head as he pulled on a shirt and tucked it into his breeches.

            “Why so awkward? Am I not allowed to enjoy myself the way you enjoyed yourself with our fearless leader last night?” Zevran teased.

Alistair’s face erupted in a blush once again as he stammered a response.

            “I-I didn’t! I—”

Zevran threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

            “No sense in denying it, my good friend! I saw the whole thing! You weren’t exactly being discreet, especially when you stepped in the bucket. I’m surprised you didn’t awaken the entire camp! So, tell me, how was it? Did you spend the evening exploring every inch of her curvy and delicious—”

Alistair rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively. He looked away, mortified, but he was certainly not about to tell Zevran what happened.

            “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s private—”

Zevran raised a brow and grinned sneakily.

            “Oh? But perhaps I can help! You see, my late-night companion and I also heard you return and all the curses and self-depreciating that followed, so my guess is, you reached your end to soon? Oh, fear not, Alistair! These things happen, especially when we are inexperienced! Quite frankly I’m surprised you didn’t finish on the spot and lasted as long as you managed. A woman with a body like Bridget’s—”

Alistair turned on his heel and began to walk away.

            “I’m not listening! La la la la la la la!”

Zevran ran to catch up with him as he dug around in his pack.

            “But wait! I have roots from Antiva that may help! Don’t be so finicky! You do want to please her, don’t you?”

As Alistair continued to ignore Zevran, the others soon emerged from their huts as the camp began to stir and embrace the day. Breakfast was served that consisted of fresh fruits, cider, crisp water. Bridget soon joined her friends and sat across the low table from Alistair as she began to dig in. Alistair felt her gaze on him but just couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Before Bridget could say anything, Lanaya approached the companions.

            “Zathrian is ready to see you,” she announced.

Bridget swallowed a gulp of cider as she popped another grape in her mouth and stood. She shot an apprehensive glance towards her friends and sent a prayer to the Maker that, for once, maybe they could receive the help they sought without first having to bend over backwards to earn it.

            But of course, this was not the case.

Bridget and her friends followed Lanaya to Zathrian’s hut. Easily the largest hut in the entire camp, an elven mage sat outside drinking hot tea as he waited patiently for the others to arrive. Lanaya insisted Bridget and her friends sit, so they did so as she went to sit by Zathrian’s side.

The Keeper of the Dalish clan did not look very old, but Bridget sensed he was older than he appeared. He cast a baleful glance at each of them before he replaced his teacup on a nearby stump and sighed. Zathrian placed his hands in front of his face and gazed at Bridget intently.

            “Greetings. I am Zathrian, Keeper of this clan. Lanaya tells me that you are a Grey Warden,” he began.

Bridget nodded.

            “Indeed. We come to you humbly to ask—”

Zathrian held up a hand and Bridget swallowed the rest of her sentence.

            “I know what it is you seek. I am afraid I am in no position to help you,” he stated.

Bridget furrowed her brow. Before she could say anything, Zathrian stood.

            “You have questions. It will be easier for me to show you,” he explained.

With that, Zathrian swept past them and beckoned for Bridget and the others to follow. As they traversed through the camp, Bridget could feel the eyes of the elves upon her and could hear their faint whispers. The children stopped playing to watch as they passed by, a hint of fear held within their eyes. Zathrian led them to a large hut, nearly as large as his quarters. He pulled away the flap and allowed Bridget and the others to enter.

It was a very dimly lit area with several cots lined up next to each other. Each cot held an elven warrior or hunter that was badly beaten, bruised, or writhing in pain. Several healers shuffled between the dying elves, trying to ease their pain, to get them to drink or eat. Bridget drew her brows together sadly and looked worriedly up at Zathrian.

            “My people are dying, young one. There is a curse that has befallen this forest and I’m afraid I do not have enough warriors to spare to help you against the Blight. I am sorry.”

Alistair frowned.

            “What kind of curse? Maybe we can help?”

Morrigan opened her mouth to object, but Leliana elbowed her and shushed her to be quiet. She crossed her arms and adopted a sour look on her face but managed to keep her opinion on the matter to herself. Zathrian sighed and explained that the elves within this tent were suffering from Lycanthropy.

            “Werewolves prowl the inner heart of the forest, and they are bloodthirsty and hateful creatures. Even if I had Witherfang’s heart, powerful as I am, I’m not so sure I would be able to lift this curse,” he stated.

Bridget shook her head.

            “Who…or what is Witherfang?” she asked.

Zathrian caught her gaze with his own.

            “Their leader, the white wolf. Witherfang is very old and very wise. He does not respond to trickery, nor can he be lured out of his hiding place. I fear that we are at a loss here, Warden. I plan to move my people west in the coming days, once these souls are lost and given back to the soil,” he explained sadly.

Zathrian walked past them as he exited the hut. Bridget and the others followed. Bridget walked in stride next to him and narrowed her eyes.

            “What if I went into the forest and found Witherfang, obtained his heart, would you be able to cure them?” she asked.

Zathrian whipped around as a flash of anger flared in his eyes.

            “Do you know what you speak of? My best warriors are lying in the infirmary because they could not slay Witherfang. You believe your skills to be better than theirs? Those who were taught to hold a bow before they could even take their first steps?”

Bridget stuck her chin out and shook her head.

            “I meant no insult to you or your warriors, Zathrian. But I must receive aid for the Blight. If I can help you to help them, I see that as a fair enough trade, don’t you? If the Blight isn’t stopped, it will not matter if you take your clan west or not. The Darkspawn will find you wherever you go.”

Zathrian paused and reflected on Bridget’s statement. He locked her gaze with his and, after a moment, sighed and nodded.

            “Very well. Bring me Witherfang’s heart and I will see what I can do.”

Bridget nodded. As Zathrian returned to his quarters to meditate once more, Lanaya led Bridget and her friends around camp to restock on supplies. After Leliana had fresh arrows for her bow, and Morrigan and Wynne had restored their lyrium potions, Bridget made sure she had a few health poultices ready in her pack. Lanaya led them to the entrance of the eastern section of the forest and cast Bridget a worried glance.

            “Be careful, Warden. There are things that exist within this forest that even we cannot explain. I wish you luck on your journey.”

With that, she left them and made her way back to the camp. Bridget asked Alistair, Zevran, and Morrigan to accompany her into the forest. Leliana and Wynne took Zeus with them back to the infirmary to see if they could help the healers in any way.  

Bridget placed her hand on the hilt of her sword as she slowly stepped through the gate and entered the heart of the forest. The wind whispered past her ear and sent a chill down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as she slowly led her companions into the bramble with hope that, this Witherfang would be easy to find and kill.

Little did Bridget know, however, that there was much more to the werewolves than Zathrian had revealed, and as Bridget and her friends traversed deeper into the forest and battled bears, wolves, and even trees, she realized that perhaps this was a more complicated tale than she had been led to believe.

Chapter Text

Harvestmere, 9:30 Dragon

Brecilian Forest

The companions seemed to be walking around in circles. The forest, or maybe something within the forest, kept playing tricks on them. Several times, Bridget’s sense of direction was thrown off, and she led her friends right back to where they had started. Tension and impatience continued to pollute the air between them until, at long last, Bridget led them to something new: a short bridge that proceeded to another part of the woods. 

As they approached the bridge, a loud wolf’s howl pierced the trees, the sound so close to them that Bridget instinctively grabbed the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at a moment’s need.  A few moments later, three werewolves ran into the small clearing, stopping the far side of that short bridge, staring intently at the small group of humans.

Bridget swallowed nervously. The werewolves were tall beasts that easily loomed over her and her friends menacingly. The leader of the pack, a werewolf with coppery brown fur that shimmered slightly in the sunlight, approached Bridget carefully. His deep, earthy eyes stared into her very soul, and he narrowed them.

         “What business do you have here, human?” he snarled.

Bridget released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and replied,

         “I mean you no harm, if I can help it. I am trying to restore peace between the werewolves and the Dalish—”

Before she could finish, the werewolf cut her off.

         “Peace?!” he snarled incredulously, “Zathrian wants peace? Ironic that he has sent you, a human of all things, to do his bidding for him!”

Bridget drew her brows together and gave the werewolf an anguished look. 

         “Please, let me try to help. My name is Bridget, these are my friends. We are on the brink of a Blight, and we need the elves’ help to stop it,” she explained.

The werewolf contemplated her words for a moment and introduced himself as Swiftrunner. However, he was not ready to trust Bridget or anything she had to say.

         “Heed this as your one and only warning, human. Do not dare traipse further within the forest. You toy with things you know nothing about.”

With that, Swiftrunner howled once again and the two wolves that were with him followed him back into the shadows of the forest. Bridget sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned and looked at the others.

         “Something’s not right here. How did he know Zathrian’s name?” she asked curiously.

Morrigan crossed her arms and shrugged.

         “Werewolves are not unintelligent creatures; they were once human. Perhaps they know him from their time before their lycanthropy?”

Bridget led her friends across the bridge as she contemplated Morrigan’s observation. She supposed this wouldn’t be the first time the Dalish had come to this part of the forest, and she suspected Zathrian was much older than he appeared. Suddenly, Bridget felt herself get pulled back quickly. She whipped around to see Alistair had grabbed her by her shoulder and pulled her away from walking straight into a tree. 

Bridget studied Alistair for a moment. Throughout their time in the forest, he had barely spoken to her, hardly looked at her. She was beginning to worry that she had been too forward the night before, though she couldn’t outright ask him about it right now, with their friends close enough to hear.

         “Thanks. I…don’t remember that tree standing there,” she noted.

Alistair shook his head and slowly withdrew his sword.

         “That’s because it wasn’t,” he replied.

Before Bridget could respond, the tree in front of her suddenly sprang to life! It released a horrible screech that made nearby birds fly up into the heavens to escape the sound. Morrigan shouted for the others to move out of the way as she chanted a spell and waved her staff in the air. The tree was enveloped in ice, and when Morrigan thrust her staff to the ground, it shattered.

         “Tis a good thing you brought me along. Steel and iron would not be of much use against these creatures,” Morrigan noted. 

Bridget nodded gratefully, looking around with a watchful eye for more hostile trees. The four of them proceeded further into the forest, alert and watchful now, dispatching enemies as needed, when eventually Bridget and her friends found themselves before the Grand Oak Tree. Whatever old magic held within the forest that affected the other sylvan trees also affected the Oak, however, he did not attack them. After deciphering his riddle-like speech, Bridget realized that he sought an acorn that had been taken from him. The Grand Oak, with his rumbling voice, agreed to help them traverse deeper into the woods if Bridget could reunite him with his seed.

Bridget agreed, having no idea how she would fulfill this particular task. Eventually, Bridget found her answer as she and her friends came upon a campsite in the forest; a makeshift tent stood haphazardly put together near a small fire pit. In the shadows, a man stood nearby hunched over and rubbing something held in his hands, when he heard Bridget and the others approach, he quickly slipped it into his pocket and looked at them warily.  

At first glance, he seemed to be a simple man who appeared to have lived in the forest by himself for quite some time. He was unkempt and muttering to himself under his breath as he shuffled around his camp. Bridget glanced at her friends cautiously, having the feeling that the little man was more than he appeared. Morrigan placed her hand on Bridget’s shoulder and whispered, 

         “Careful, I sense immense power here.”

Bridget nodded and turned her attention back to the stranger. 

         “Hello…can you help me? I’m looking–” she began.

The Hermit eyed her suspiciously, buried his hands in his pockets and leaned forward. 

         “Oh…did they send you? Hmm? Well, they’ve certainly honed their skills. They’ve never made themselves look like a human before!” he exclaimed.

Bridget blinked, slightly distracted by a bug crawling in the man’s long beard. Alistair and Zevran looked at each other uncomfortably and Morrigan hung back as she studied the man, a spell perched on her tongue if needed.

         “I’m…sorry? I don’t follow,” Bridget stated.

The old hermit glanced at her and raised his arms up in the air and sighed dramatically.

         “Questions, questions! It’s always questions! I say, shall we play a game?”

Bridget looked at her friends for assistance. They shrugged, just as baffled by his strange man as she was. She turned her attention back to the hermit and nodded slowly.

         “Okay…”.

The hermit scratched his beard.

         “Ask a question and receive a question but give an answer and you shall get the same.”

Bridget took a deep breath and sighed. She knew she didn’t have time for this but she suspected this man stole the Grand Oak’s acorn and she certainly wasn’t going to leave without it.

         “Very well…do you like to trade?” she asked.

The hermit raised his eyebrow.

         “What do you have?”

Bridget rummaged around in her pack and pulled out some fresh fruit from breakfast that morning.

         “Fresh fruit grown by the Dalish,” she offered.

The hunger in the hermit’s eyes gave him away. She could tell he was contemplating her offer.

         “I have a book someone gave me years ago, a cogwheel, and an acorn,” he stated.

Bridget smiled triumphantly.

         “May I have the acorn for the fruit?”

         “May I have the fruit for the acorn?” the Hermit asked back.

Bridget nodded.

         “Deal!”

The Hermit practically threw the acorn at Alistair who fumbled to catch it as he snatched the fruit from Bridget and licked his lips.

         “Mmm…this’ll be much better than the beetles and bugs I am used to.” He said more to himself than the others. 

Bridget slowly backed away from the Hermit and quickly made her way back towards the Grand Oak. When Bridget stated she had found the acorn, he was thrilled. He held out a gnarled and twisted branch and she carefully placed the acorn within. If trees could smile, Bridget was sure the Grand Oak was positively grinning.

         “Oh my, how nice! Rejoice indeed, for I have been reunited with my seed! As promised, here it is, a piece of my bark. Use it to traverse deeper in the dark. Be wary and careful, for the further you dwell, the forest may still try to put you under its spell.”

Bridget graciously accepted the piece of bark the Grand Oak bestowed to her. She carefully slipped it into her pack as she turned back to face the others.

         “Alright, now where do we go?” she asked.

Zevran stated he thought he saw a barrier of some kind nearby the Hermit’s camp. Finally gaining her sense of direction back, Bridget and the others found the barrier in question easily. It emanated a strong and powerful magic that even Morrigan could not decipher. Bridget held out the bark from the Grand Oak and the barrier dissipated before them, its remnants twirled and danced with the wind before disappearing completely.

With trepidation, Bridget carefully stepped through to the other side. The flora was thick here, flowers of all kinds, shrubbery, trees and vines hung low and led the way to what appeared to be an old ruin. Bridget placed her hand upon the stone and let her fingertips gently graze the aged rock. What secrets did this ruin hold? How long had it stood here, tucked away in this quiet part of the forest?

Unfortunately, Bridget did not get to admire the scenery for long. As she and the others stepped under the stone archway that led into the courtyard of the ruin, a handful of werewolves descended upon them. They did not attack, however, but stood and growled at Bridget and her friends as Swiftrunner strode towards the front of the pack. Mere feet away from Bridget, he snarled at her and growled.

         “You were warned, human! And yet, you persisted! Tell me, why should we not rip you to shreds where you stand?” he demanded angrily. 

Bridget held up her hands and shot a pleading gaze to Swiftfunner.

         “Please, I do not wish to hurt you, if I can help it. Perhaps you can help me, I seek Witherfang, I–”

Another werewolf, this one with fur as silver as the moon scoffed and glared at her maliciously.

         “You seek Witherfang to destroy him! That is the only reason why you seek him! We are not fools, human despite what the elf Zathrian may have told you!”

Bridget held her ground.

         “You must understand, I need the elves to aid in my quest to stop the Blight, and the only way they have agreed to help me is if I can resolve this curse. If Zathrian has Witherfang’s heart, he may be able to reverse the curse and cure not only his people, but all of you as well!”

Swiftrunner howled and ran up to Bridget, stopping mere inches in front of her. Alistair, Zevran, and Morrigan all held their weapons at the ready, but Bridget continued to remain calm, even though sweat beaded her brow and her heart hammered in her chest. 

         “I knew it! You are only here to kill Witherfang because Zathrian is too much of a coward to face him! He has tricked you to do his bidding for him, human! We will not give up Witherfang for our own salvation! We would rather die!”

Bridget drew her brows together and shook her head gently, not wanting to come off aggressively and incite an attack. 

         “Please! I don’t want to have to hurt you!” she exclaimed.

Zevran cleared his throat uncomfortably as the werewolves began to close in.

         “I do not think we have much of a choice in the matter, my friend,” he whispered, daggers at the ready. 

Swiftrunner raised his clawed hand and swiped it down towards Bridget. She quickly withdrew her shield and blocked his blow, but winced at the sound of his nails scratching against the steel. The others sprang into action as more werewolves appeared from the shadows and began to aid their brothers and sisters in their attack.

Bridget blocked, dodged, and only tried to stun the werewolves that engaged in combat, still unwilling to cause unnecessary bloodshed. If there was any chance that they could revert to their human form when and if the curse could be broken, she desperately wanted them to have that second chance at life. Bridget bashed another wolf with her shield as she ran to give Morrigan cover. The mage nodded her thanks and resumed her position, trying to keep her magic in check and not permanently harm the wolves.

Again, Swiftrunner growled angrily and made a beeline for Bridget. The wind whipped his fur as he sprinted towards her on all fours ready to attack. Alistair saw Swiftrunner coming towards Bridget, who was distracted as another wolf engaged her. Concerned for her safety and afraid to lose her, especially after his awkward departure last night, Alistair quickly ran towards her and pushed her out of the way.  

Bridget rolled across the ground and Alistair held up his shield to block Swiftrunner from knocking him over. He could feel the muscles in his calves strain as he dug his heels into the dirt, using all of his strength to push the werewolf back. Bridget scrambled to her feet and ran towards them, ready to ram Swiftrunner with her shield to knock him down, when she suddenly felt her breath forced from her body as something solid rammed into her side.

Bridget fell flat and skidded backwards nearly two yards, and stared up into the sky above. She coughed and gasped for breath as she placed her hand to her side, quite sure she now sported a broken rib or two. Bridget slowly sat up to see what had knocked her over and sucked in a sharp breath upon seeing the large white wolf that had appeared.

         “Witherfang,” she whispered.

The white wolf howled chillingly, and the other werewolves stopped their attack immediately. They flocked to Witherfang like baby ducklings to their mother and bowed before him. Witherfang cast his crystal blue eyes to Swiftrunner and nodded his head. Swiftrunner growled and addressed the other werewolves.

         “Retreat into the ruin!” he ordered. 

As soon as he was done speaking, Swiftrunner, followed by Witherfang and the rest of the werewolves, quickly dispersed back into the ruins.  Bridget took a deep breath, winced, and nodded to the others to take a moment to regroup. They sat under the shade of a nearby tree as Bridget removed her breastplate and lifted her shirt for Morrigan to inspect her injury. Morrigan placed her hands on Bridget’s side, which was already turning purple, and whispered a complex spell as her hands lit up with a calming green glow.

The pain left Bridget’s side almost instantly. Once Morrigan completed the spell, she released her magic and helped Bridget replace her armor. Alistair and Zevran stood off to the side with their backs turned to give their leader privacy, though Alistair had to fight the urge to look back at her. He was acting like such a fool! Why couldn’t he just talk to her? Why was he so ashamed to look her in the eye? He had enjoyed himself last night, albeit perhaps a little too much. But was it really something to be this embarrassed about?

Before his mind could wander much further, Bridget and Morrigan regrouped with the men and Bridget took the lead once again. The others cautiously followed her into the ruin. Morrigan conjured a small flame to illuminate their path as they descended the dusty, ancient steps. Unusually large cobwebs stretched across several hallways and corners, and the occasional skeleton could be found lying broken and forgotten against a wall or spread across the floor.

The hair on the back of Bridget’s neck already stood at attention, but when she heard a scuttling across the floor and pinchers snapping hungrily nearby, she let out a terrified scream as several very large spiders began to scuttle towards her and her friends menacingly. They were easy to kill once Bridget could get over her fear, but she was forced to admit that the spiders made her skin crawl worse than Darkspawn!

After the skirmish, and saving Alistair from becoming entangled in a cobweb, the party continued deeper into the ruin, their sense of direction completely derailed. As they traversed the hallways, there were no apparent signs of the werewolves’ passing. The only inhabitants of the ruin appeared to be the giant spiders that appeared from time to time, as well as enchanted skeletons that still had a bone to pick with the living.

Eventually the party stumbled into a room with an ornate spherical sculpture at its center. Morrigan surmised that it could have been a device used by the ancient elves to predict numerous things, phases of the moon, or changes of seasons. Bridget carefully inspected it, but dared not touch it. She felt distinctly unwelcome in this ruin, as if the very air and dust motes were angry at their disturbance, and Bridget certainly didn’t want to touch anything that could trigger any kind of trap. Zevran, on the other hand, tried to sneak something valuable into his pack and awoke an Arcane Horror that was lurking nearby.

Another skirmish ensued, this one much more precarious and deadly. Arcane Horrors were listed quite high in the demon hierarchy and were more intelligent than simple Shades or Rage Demons. They were cunning, deadly, powerful demons that used an old, long-forgotten magic that no mage now could hope to understand. Morrigan engaged the Horror with the spells she had at her disposal, but it would disappear and reappear about the room in the blink of an eye, ensuring that it was not an easy target. 

Morrigan studied his pattern briefly and instructed Bridget and Alistair to stand at opposite ends of the spherical sculpture. With Morrigan at its head, she, Bridget, and Alistair, made a long triangle of sorts. At her command, Bridget and Alistair lifted their shields in time with her magic. The spell bounced off of Alistair’s shield first, then Bridget’s and Morrigan outsmarted the Horror as he appeared above the sculpture just as her spell hit him.

What she, nor the others, anticipated, however, was the final spell the Horror cast before he burst into flames. Bridget felt the ground move beneath her and noticed the walls begin to shake. Zevran grabbed Morrigan and Bridget grabbed Alistair, each pair leaping a different direction to avoid falling rock. The entire room caved in on itself! After the dust settled and the horrible sound of stone crumbling and crashing against the floor receded, Bridget shouted for Zevran and Morrigan.

She and Alistair quickly dove in to excavate the cave-in, praying that their friends were alright. After a few tense minutes, Alistair removed a large rock and they could finally hear their companions gasping for breath on the other side. Morrigan called back out to the two Wardens, trying in vain to blast the rock away with her magic, but it wouldn’t budge. A final trick from the Horror, she presumed.

         “Okay, these ruins must be connected in some way, yes? Why don’t we just split up and hope that another hallway will connect and we can regroup then!” Zevran suggested.

Alistair sighed and wiped his brow across his forearm.

         “And suppose the ruin isn’t connected, what then?” He asked, out of breath.

Bridget heard Zevran’s leather armor rustle as he clearly had shrugged, and Morrigan swore and kicked a rock in frustration. Bridget frowned in determination.

         “We’ll find a way. You two stay together and be careful.”

Zevran agreed and urged Morrigan to accompany him further into the ruin, ignoring her cursing tirade at the Arcane Horror and the fact that it had, unfortunately, gotten the last laugh. As Bridget listened to Zevran and Morrigan’s footsteps fade away, she took a deep breath and sighed and braced her hands against the rubble. She closed her eyes and prayed that they could understand this maze of hallways and that the four would reunite sooner rather than later.

Bridget turned her attention to Alistair, who stood nearby looking at his feet. She furrowed her brow at him and pushed herself off the rubble. Now that they were alone, it was the perfect time to ask him why he was acting so strangely. As she walked past him and began to carefully tread down the only accessible hallway, Bridget narrowed her eyes in the darkness and looked over her shoulder at him.

         “Are you alright?” she asked, unable to see his face.

Alistair’s breath caught in his throat, and he cleared it quickly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

         “Y-Yeah. Fine. I’m fine,” he lied.  

Bridget continued to feel along the hallway and raised her eyebrows.

         “Really? Because you certainly don’t seem fine,” she quipped.

Alistair frowned.

         “What do you mean?” he asked.

Bridget scoffed.

         “Oh, you know, not making eye contact with me, avoiding my very presence…a girl tends to pick up on that kind of thing, you know,” she said lightly, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Alistair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

         “Can we not do this now? Especially in the middle of a creepy and dark ruin?” he asked defensively.

As they stepped into the next room, Bridget whipped around to face him.

         “Can we not do what? Have a conversation? You don’t want to talk to me now, either? You certainly didn’t seem to mind my company last night!” she exclaimed. 

Before Alistair could respond, he and Bridget whipped out their blades as the Taint thrummed within them. A few Darkspawn had made their way into the ruin and were rushing towards them, their weapons raised. Thankfully, they were of the lesser intelligent kind, and were dealt with easily. As Alistair moved to sheathe his blade, he thought he felt the tile beneath his left foot sink into the ground. Bridget, not ready to drop the argument, strode towards him determinedly, her blade and shield still in hand. She approached him and narrowed her eyes up at him as she stuck her chin out in defiance.

         “Look, Alistair…if it’s about what happened–”

         “Shh!” he exclaimed.

Bridget’s mouth fell open.

         “Why exactly are you shushing me?” she demanded.

Before Alistair could respond, a large cage fell from above them and knocked them together. It then shot up into the air with both Wardens clinging to each other within, stopping several feet above the stone ground. In the confusion, their weapons had been knocked from their hands and they sat in a very precarious position. Once her mind cleared of the initial shock of becoming trapped, Bridget realized that she sat straddling Alistair. Their faces were inches apart, cramped as they were within the confines of the cage.

Alistair closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The universe, he surmised, was very cruel indeed. Either that, or the Maker had a very odd sense of humor. That he would be in this position…the same exact position that he found himself with Bridget the previous night, had to be some kind of grand joke. 

“Alistair…you must talk to me. I’m not going to know what’s wrong otherwise. Was it something I did? If it’s about last night…if I went too far…”

Alistair snapped his head forward and shook it quickly.

         “No, of course not! It’s not you! It’s never you…it’s me. I…I’m embarrassed alright?” he admitted begrudgingly as a blush reddened his face.

Bridget drew her brows together after releasing a sigh of relief, a small smile playing at her lips.

         “Why? Whatever for?”

Alistair felt his face grow even hotter from blushing so hard. He averted his gaze and looked down at the floor beneath them, which certainly didn’t make him feel any better.

         “Because I…I met my end after barely anything happened between us! It just… happened so fast and I…I just ran away! And you were left…unsatisfied.” He whispered in anguish.

Bridget bit back a smile as she tried to adopt a sympathetic look on her face. Maker, she had been blessed with such a sweet and innocent man. He was more concerned about her lack of pleasure, or so he thought, than his own. It was quite endearing. Bridget gently touched the side of his face and urged him to look at her. When their eyes met, she smiled warmly.

         “Alistair, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. These things happen, especially when it’s new and exciting,” she began earnestly.

Alistair rolled his eyes and groaned.

         “That makes me sound so inexperienced…which I guess I am, but, ugh, blast it all! Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who knows what they’re doing? I feel as if I’m all thumbs, like I’m stumbling in the dark wearing a blindfold when it comes to all this! I don’t know what to do or what to say…”

Bridget shook her head and chuckled softly.

         “That doesn’t mean you can’t learn, you know?” she bumped her nose against his playfully. 

Alistair sighed and leaned his head back against the cage again so he could look at Bridget fully. Maker’s breath, despite the fact that there were the remnants of cobwebs in her hair, dirt and blood smeared all across her armor, her skin glistening with sweat…she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Alistair blinked and chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment.

         “But…I left you. Ran away like a coward and you didn’t even get to…”

Bridget smiled coyly and raised an eyebrow.

         “Get to what?” she asked slowly, too innocently.

Alistair felt his face turn red again in a new wave of bashfulness.

         “You know…” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Bridget giggled to herself for a moment before she leaned towards Alistair. The cage creaked in protest at the movement. However, Alistair ignored it as he felt Bridget’s hot breath against his ear.

         “What if I told you I did?” she asked softly.

Alistair released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he felt her take his earlobe between her teeth and tug on it gently. He shuddered pleasurably, and his curiosity was piqued. 

          “Um…ah…h-how?” he asked in a shaky breath.

He felt her lips curve into a smile against his ear and groaned as he felt her tongue trace the outer ridge.

         “Well…I touched myself…while I thought of you…” she whispered, breathing heavily into his ear.

Alistair clenched his jaw as he felt himself become instantly hard. Though his mind was heady with desire, he was rather bewildered by Bridget’s statement.

         “Wait…you mean…women can do that too?” he asked innocently.

Bridget chuckled against his ear and pulled back. Alistair felt himself grow hot under his armor as she licked her lips and smiled seductively at him.

         “Indeed, we can. I touched my breasts first and imagined it was your hands cupping them, your fingers grazing my mounds and tracing the curvature of them,” she explained.

Alistair swallowed and released another groan as Bridget repositioned herself atop him.

         “Then I let my hand slowly caress my abdomen until I hit the band of my small clothes,” she continued softly.

Maker above he had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life! Yet, Alistair didn’t want her to stop talking, didn’t want her to stop explaining what she had done to herself.

         “I slipped my hand beneath that band and was pleasantly surprised at how wet you had made me. I found my bud first and let my fingertips swirl against it, again, imagining that it was you the whole time.”

Alistair felt his jaw become slack as he clenched his fists together to stop himself from grabbing Bridget and crashing her lips to his. He felt his hips move instinctively towards her, but as the cage above them groaned once again in protest, Alistair fought every urge within himself not to move, despite how badly his body craved her… needed her.

         “Then I found my center and slipped two fingers inside…wishing desperately that they were yours. I slid them in and out, in and out until I felt that irresistible pressure build up in my lower belly. I imagined you on top of me, inside of me, making love to me until I shook with such ferocity that my entire body was left tingling pleasantly afterwards.”

Alistair released a deep breath and looked at Bridget longingly. Maker, he needed this woman, and he needed her now . Alistair noted her flushed face and that her eyes had darkened with desire. He smiled slightly as a bit of manly pride swelled within him. It was flattering to know that she thought of him in such a way and that, even though he hadn’t physically been in the room with her, just the thought of him still brought her pleasure.

         “Wow…ahem…wow. I uh…I don’t know what to say. I…I think I may be speechless,” he chuckled bashfully.

Bridget smiled and placed her hand to the side of his face once more.

         “I’ll let you think on that for a while, in the meantime…I think I’ve found our way out of this predicament we’ve found ourselves in.”

Truth be told, Alistair would have been perfectly fine staying trapped in this cage with Bridget straddling his lap for a long time, but he forced himself to ask her to explain regardless.

         “I see a sword sticking out of a skeleton caught in the cage behind you. I think I can reach it if I lean over you, but we um…we’ll need to rock the cage.” 

Alistair blinked.

         “Come again?” he asked in a small voice.

Though his head told him rocking the cage would be a decidedly good idea to help relieve the pressure in his aching cock, he also didn’t want to move at all so he wouldn’t have a repeat episode of last night. Maker knows, Bridget’s description of what she had done to herself was nearly enough to make him climax on the spot,and if she moved those luscious hips of hers at all, Alistair knew he wouldn’t stand a chance at keeping his composure. However, he also knew they had to get out of this cage and find Zevran and Morrigan. He nodded and leaned back as Bridget leaned forward and slowly, the cage began to rock, back and forth.

Alistair watched Bridget intently as they worked together to move the cage. The concentration on her face was admirable, because all Alistair could think about was how amazing it felt to feel her grinding against him, despite the armor they both wore. He loved how she always had a notch appear between her brow when she concentrated on something, how you could clearly see her determination etched across her face.

He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, and by all the saints, Alistair swore once they got out of this blasted cage, he would do just that! One final lunge and Bridget grasped the hilt of the sword. She gave it a swift yank and removed it from the skeleton. It fell over lifelessly as Bridget withdrew the sword. With a triumphant grin, she reached up and began to saw away at the rope that suspended the cage. 

After some time, Bridget was successful. She and Alistair jumped out of the cage as it fell and landed against the floor. The wind was knocked out of both Wardens briefly, but the fall was not as great as either one of them had originally thought. Bridget turned her head and looked at Alistair and began to laugh, and he joined in her laughter.

Suddenly, Alistair looked up and noticed that when the cage had been cut, the mechanism that had been rigged to drop the cage had been disturbed. As debris began to fall, he grabbed Bridget quickly and pulled her to him. He rolled over atop her to shield her body from any fallen rock, but they had rolled far enough away where they were undisturbed.

Bridget and Alistair looked over at where the mechanism had fallen and then back at each other. The realization that Alistair was on top of her, nestled between her legs did not go unnoticed by either of them. Bridget gave him a seductive smirk and wrapped her arms around his neck.

         “My hero…” she whispered.

Emboldened by her need for him, and finally giving into his own desire, Alistair claimed Bridget’s lips in a heated kiss. Her body ached for his touch as he moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. Bridget arched her back and gave herself freely to the passion of Alistair’s kiss. He entangled his hand in her hair, and cradled the back of her neck as he delved his tongue into the cavern of her mouth and explored freely.

Bridget moaned as her tongue clashed with Alistair’s. The need to alleviate the pressure in his groin was too much, and the only relief Alistair received was when he rocked his hips, pressing against Bridget’s warmth. Bridget hummed in the back of her throat as she gripped his hair gently in her hands and deepened the kiss. 

Bridget snuggled against Alistair as their legs entwined. She met every thrust of his hips with as much vigor and excitement as he gave, and wished desperately that they were rid of their armor and clothing. They broke the kiss for air and Alistair blushed at the string of saliva that clung to their lips. Bridget quickly wiped it away and grinned as she craned her neck to nibble his ear once again.

Alistair moaned loudly as Bridget left a searing trail of hot kisses from his earlobe and down his neck. His moan ignited Bridget with a maddening fire. Want, desire, need…all these emotions swirled within her. She wanted nothing more than to strip them both of their armor and make passionate love right on the floor of this ruin, and as Bridget seriously contemplated that very idea when Alistair placed a hot kiss at the hollow of her throat, reality crashed around them as they heard fighting in the distance.

It was Morrigan and Zevran, it had to be! Though neither Bridget, nor Alistair wished to leave each other’s embrace…they knew their friends needed help. With one last kiss, for the time being at any rate, Bridget and Alistair cleared their heads of desire, became Wardens once again, and rushed down the adjoining hallway.

         It was not long before they found Morrigan and Zevran engaged with another pack of large spiders. Once the companions regrouped and the spiders lay slain, they exchanged greetings and returned to the task at hand.

                                                                                                                                  xXx

At long last, the companions finally made it to the inner sanctum of the ruin. Or at least, that’s what Bridget assumed it was, once she and the others came across more werewolves. However, they didn’t attack. Bridget cautiously lowered her weapons as the silver furred werewolf from before approached her. 

          “Enough, human! We wish for no more bloodshed between us! The Lady of the Forest does not believe that you have been told the entire tale of this curse. I am here to speak on her behalf. Do you agree to parlay with the lady and meet with her?”

Bridget furrowed her brow.

         “I do not know who this lady is, but if it means we may resolve this peacefully, by all means…take me to her,” she stated.

The werewolf nodded. He kept a close eye on the companions as he and the other werewolves led them down a dark corridor and several staircases. Eventually, they were led into a large chamber where Swiftrunner and the other werewolves from before stood. Swiftrunner growled untrustingly towards Bridget and her companions, but was shushed by a woman standing nearby.

The Lady of the Forest emerged from the shadows and placed a comforting hand to Swiftrunner’s forearm. Bridget understood why the lady was given her name, as she was more forest than woman. Her body was entwined in vines and leaves, her hands looked more tree than human, and her deep, black eyes seemed to hold the answers to the universe.

         “I am glad we had this chance to meet, Lady,” Bridget stated diplomatically. 

Swiftrunner growled and again, ran towards Bridget at full force.

         “You will speak when spoken to!” he growled menacingly. 

The Lady of the Forest approached Swiftrunner once more and shook her head at him calmly, soothing him for a moment, before she addressed Bridget and the others.

         “You must forgive Swiftrunner,  he struggles with his inner nature,” she explained in a melodic voice.

Bridget nodded.

         “As do we all, Lady.”

The forest spirit looked at Bridget quizzically.

         “Wise words from one so young. You strike me as a woman who is highly intelligent. Surely you must know…Zathrian has not been entirely truthful with you?”

Bridget took a deep breath and chose her words carefully.

         “I am beginning to suspect that, yes,” she replied.

The Lady nodded slowly.

         “Indeed. I know he has asked you to find Witherfang, to deliver him his heart. I am the only one capable of calling Witherfang to appear…so I suggest a deal,” she began.

Bridget narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but continued to listen.

         “We wish to appeal to Zathrian, to show him that these creatures have indeed regained their minds. They are not their ancestors; they should not be punished for crimes committed centuries ago. Please, human. Bring him here. Let us speak with him. We do not wish for this to end in bloodshed.”

         “Nor do I, Lady. I will bring Zathrian here but…will you tell me about the curse?”

The Lady nodded.

         “Yes, for I believe Zathrian will continue to withhold the truth from you for as long as he can. Twas Zathrian, in fact,  who created the curse. When the Dalish came long ago, human travelers passed through the forest. They killed his son and…did unspeakable things to his daughter. When his daughter later found out that she was with child…she took her life because she could not bear the shame.”

Bridget felt her eyes well up with tears as the Lady continued.

         “Zathrian created the curse to punish the humans, and in doing so, he damned his own people. That is the long and the short of it, I’m afraid. Now please, bring Zathrian to us.”

Bridget nodded. Swiftrunner then led her small group to a side entrance that would allow them to access the upper part of the ruin and head back to the Dalish camp.

After how Zathrian had been skeptical of their ability to accomplish the task he set them to, Bridget wasn’t very surprised to find the elf  himself in the upper chamber when she and her friends reached the top of the staircase. Zathrian turned to the group and brightened.

         “Ah, I see you’ve found the ruin. Perhaps I should have placed more faith in you. Have you found Witherfang? Do you have his heart?” he asked hopefully. 

Bridget frowned at Zathrian and shook her head.

         “No, but I met someone far more interesting. Do you know the Lady of the Forest?”

Zathrian eyed Bridget skeptically and tipped his head to the side.

         “So…the spirit has decided to show herself…and what tales did she spin for you, hmm?”

Bridget crossed her arms.

         “She wants to speak with you, they all do,” Bridget began.

Zathrian scoffed.

         “You expect me to believe that those beasts are capable of intelligent dialogue? Do you take me for a fool? You do realize the spirit is Witherfang?”

Alistair looked at Zevran.

         “Well…I hadn’t figured that out, had you?”

Zevran and Morrigan shrugged as they continued to listen. Eventually, Bridget was able to coerce Zathrian to accompany her back to the lair of the werewolves. He was not given the warmest of welcomes, and looked upon the werewolves with disgust and disdain. The Lady approached him and appealed to his good nature.

         “Zathrian…you have held this grudge for centuries. These creatures are not the ones that were responsible for the tragedy that befell your family! Please, you must release them, release yourself from this eternal torment!”

Zathrian shook his head and swallowed.

         “You did not hear their screams, see their faces! They haunt me daily, I cannot escape them! You expect me to believe that if I lift the curse these newly-turned humans won’t commit the same atrocities that their ancestors did? How do I know that more of my people won't meet the same fate that my family did?” He demanded.  

The Lady frowned.

         “Your own people lay suffering by the very curse you created! They lay dying in your camp, Zathrian! You could save them! You have the capability, you know what must be done!”

Zathrian shook his head vehemently and raised his staff defensively.       

          “No…no. I cannot and will not remove the curse, spirit. Not without a fight!”

Swiftrunner growled a chilling growl as, between one breath and the next, the Lady of the Forest transformed into Witherfang. Moving too quickly for Bridget to follow, the nearby wolves quickly subdued Zathrian who was clearly outmatched, regardless of his many talents. 

Zathrian took a deep, steadying breath.

          “You shame me, spirit. Perhaps it…is time,” he stated defeatedly.

The Lady sucked in a hopeful breath.

         “You will do it, then? You will lift the curse?”

Zathrian took another bracing breath and nodded.

         “So long as you know that my death means yours as well,” he explained.

The Lady of the Forest touched the side of his face with her branchlike hand and gave him a sweet comforting smile.

         “You are my maker, Zathrian.This forest has been my home for many centuries. It will be nice to see what lies…beyond.”

Zathrian nodded one final time. He began to chant in ancient elven and, after a moment, he thrust his staff into the stone. Zathrian fell and a bright light filled the chamber. Bridget held up her arm to shield her eyes and blinked rapidly once the light receded. The werewolves were human once again. Some grinned and hugged each other, while others stood marveling at their hands, unable to believe that they were paws no longer.   

      “I thank you, human—er I guess I can’t really say that anymore,” the man that was Swiftrunner stated.

Bridget smiled.

         "What will you do now?" she asked him.

He took a deep breath and grinned.

         “Join others, become a part of society again…maybe learn a trade. The possibilities are endless, thanks to you. Thank you, from all of us. We won’t ever forget you.”

Bridget smiled warmly as she watched them run for the staircase leading out of the ruin. She internally wished them good fortune and happiness in their new journey, and hoped that they would use their newfound freedom for good.

                                                                                                                                  xXx

Later that night after Bridget and the others returned to the Dalish camp, the elves celebrated the end of the curse with merriment and laughter. Lanaya, now the Keeper of the clan since Zathrian had passed away in the ruin, pledged their support to the Blight and told Bridget that all she needed to do was send word and the elven warriors would stand by her side to drive back the Darkspawn.

Bridget couldn’t help but smile seeing the happiness of the elves. They played upbeat music and feasted upon a large boar that a young hunter was able to retrieve from the forest after Bridget and her friends returned. Bridget set her cider down and accepted Zevran’s offer to dance. She laughed as he spun her around in place and began to dance with her around the fire with the other couples.

Alistair stood nearby and smiled as he watched them. He leaned casually against a tree with his arms crossed comfortably, thankful to finally be out of his armor and bathed after being covered in muck. His eyes locked with Bridget’s as she and Zevran spun by and he took a deep breath as he felt his heart swell with adoration. Alistair dropped his gaze to admire her hips and let his gaze linger.

         “You’re watching her…with great interest I might add,” Wynne stated coyly.

Alistair started, startled by Wynne’s sudden appearance. She took a long draw from her cup but kept her watchful eye on him. Alistair cleared his throat and shrugged.

         “Well, she’s our leader. I look to her for guidance,” he replied.

Wynne raised her eyebrows and nodded.

         “Oh, I see. So tell me…- what guidance have you found in those swaying hips?”

Alistair nearly choked on his own cider as he coughed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

         “No, no, no. I wasn’t looking at her…hind quarters!” he insisted, blushing furiously.

Wynne smiled knowingly.

         “Certainly.”

         “I gazed; -glanced- in that direction…maybe. But I wasn’t looking, or really seeing anything!”

Wynne chuckled as she patted Alistair on the arm.

         “Of course,” she replied in a sing-song voice.

Alistair frowned and crossed his arms defensively. 

         “Why would you come over here just to embarrass me? That’s really mean, you know!”

Wynne laughed as she walked away to rejoin Morrigan, who was sitting nearby. After glaring at Wynne’s retreating figure for a few moments, Alistair turned his attention back to Bridget and Zevran’s dance, only to be surprised to find her standing in front of him. She was sweaty and slightly out of breath as she took his cup from him. She drank the rest of his cider in a single gulp and released a long breath as she smiled up at him.

         “Want to dance?” she asked, hand outstretched towards him. 

Alistair laughed, but when he realized Bridget was serious, he cleared his throat and shook his head.

         “I’m afraid I’m not very good—” he began, but Bridget cut him off.

She grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards the large bonfire, smiling up at him with a challenge in her eyes.

         “Again, these things can be taught, you know?” she replied with a wink.

Alistair blushed. Bridget instructed him to follow her lead. She placed his hands at her hips and once the music began, they began to dance. Alistair kept looking at his feet, but Bridget urged him to look at her and just feel the music. After a few initial stumbles and stepped on toes, Alistair and Bridget danced the Remigold. They placed their palms together and circled each other as the violin hit a crescendo. Alistair lifted Bridget off the ground and spun them in place.

He lifted her two more times as he followed the other couples’ lead. As he set her down the final time, Bridget’s body slid against his sensually. Without their armor on, Alistair could feel every soft curve of her body against the hard planes of his chest. All his desire from earlier came swirling back within an instant, but Alistair fought the urge to kiss her, at least for now.

         “Can we go somewhere…private?” he asked her.

Bridget nodded.

         “Of course, follow me.”

Alistair grabbed his pack that he had left behind by the tree and followed Bridget into a secluded glade tucked away from the celebration. There was a beautiful lake with a boat sitting on the sand. Bridget grinned and looked at Alistair over her shoulder.

         “Let’s get in the canoe and row out onto the lake, we can look at the stars,” she suggested.

Alistair nodded, eager and giddy for this time alone with her. Bridget helped him push off the canoe from the shore and they both climbed in carefully, so they didn’t tip over. Alistair rowed the canoe until they were in the middle of the lake. The stars glistened against the night sky like diamonds and the large, full moon reflected off the lake beautifully. It was quiet and serene and surprisingly romantic.

Bridget smiled as she gazed up into the stars. Despite how lovely the sky and its stars looked on this clear night, Alistair found that the only thing he could see was Bridget’s beauty. She looked back at Alistair, eager to share this quiet moment in nature with him, and blushed slightly upon noticing the intensity of his gaze. She gently pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and looked away, suddenly bashful. Bridget laughed inwardly at herself. She had been so confident earlier that same day, when they were in the heat of the moment and she was explaining to him about her pleasuring herself, but now? Butterflies seemed to clog her throat as she felt her nerves begin to get the better of her.

         “I have something for you,” Alistair told her.

Bridget raised an eyebrow as Alistair presented her with a beautiful, freshly bloomed rose. She smiled warmly at him as she gently took it from his hand.

         “Alistair…this is beautiful,” she whispered in awe.

Alistair smiled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

         “I picked it back in Lothering. I remember thinking how could something so rare and wonderful bloom amongst so much darkness? And in a lot of ways…I think the same thing when I look at you,” he explained.

Bridget felt her blush deepen as she ran the rose petals beneath her nose and took a breath enjoying the rose’s sweet scent, for once at a loss for words.       

         “You’re such a rare and wonderful beauty in this world, Bridget. I’m so lucky to know you, to be on this journey with you. Even though less than ideal circumstances brought us together I…I couldn’t do this with anyone else. I just…wanted you to know that. I mean–I wanted you to know how much you mean to me,” he stated.

Bridget smiled again, and looked into Alistair’s honey colored eyes.

         “So…are we married now?” she quipped.

Alistair rumbled with laughter as he blushed and cleared his throat.

         “Aha! You won’t land me that easily! I realize I am quite the catch! But in all seriousness…I’m glad you like it.”

Bridget nodded and took Alistair’s hands in hers.

         “I’ll cherish it forever.”

Alistair grinned. They were quiet for a moment and looked at the stars. Suddenly, a brilliant, shooting star zoomed across the night sky and twinkled far off into the distance. Bridget gasped. Her father had always told her stories about shooting stars but she had never actually witnessed one!

         “Amazing! My father used to say, ``If you make a wish upon a shooting star, it will come true’!” Bridget beamed at him. 

Alistair felt his pulse quicken and his face redden once again as he slid a little closer to Bridget. She noticed instantly and moved closer to him instinctively, leaning her head against his shoulder.       

          “What did you wish for?” Bridget asked softly.

Alistair raised an eyebrow and tipped his head to the side.

         “Guess,” he replied.

Bridget chuckled and thought for a moment. The crickets and frogs once again began to perform their nighttime symphonies. After listening to the cicadas call for a few moments, Bridget smiled impishly.

         “A lifetime supply of cheese,” she stated confidently.

Bridget felt Alistair’s laughter rumble in his chest, and then heard him click his tongue in response.       

         “Not quite,” Alistair said gently, smiling down at her. 

Bridget poked her lip out and drew her brows together playfully.

         “Well…what could possibly be better than a lifetime of cheese?” she asked as she snuggled in closer to him.

Alistair gazed at her longingly, this powerhouse of a woman who had captured him mind, body and soul. He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and let his fingertips linger against her cheek.

         “A lifetime with you,” he whispered huskily.

Bridget grinned and brushed her nose against Alistair’s.

         “What a coincidence…I wished for the very same thing,” she replied, her desire apparent in her voice.

Alistair claimed Bridget’s mouth in a slow, romantic kiss and Bridget quivered at its tenderness. There beneath the moon and stars, these strangers-turned friends felt their tumultuous lives shift, as their friendship finally, tangibly, became something more. As the two Wardens wrapped their arms around each other and deepened the kiss they shared, their hearts opened up to the soft and gentle caress of a budding love.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Return to Highever

Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon

Camp

Not long after leaving the Brecilian Forest, the season’s first snowflakes drifted down from the heavy gray clouds that hung low in the sky, signaling that Firstfall had arrived. Bridget looked up at the sky and groaned, knowing that traveling would now be more difficult with snow adding another obstacle to contend with.  Leliana suggested that she and her friends complete Chantry Board tasks in a few villages along their way to earn extra coin for their missing supplies, as well as for rations, and quickly/easily gained agreement from the rest of the group. Soon, they had earned enough to acquire three horses and replenish the supplies that had been lost when the Darkspawn had ambushed them.

They replaced their clothing when they could as well, and donned thicker cloaks lined with fur to protect against the harsh winds. Bridget hoped that the snow would not slow them down terribly; it was a long stretch to Orzammar, and she didn’t want to be too delayed, knowing that once they made it to the Frostbacks, that traveling would be treacherous at best, deadly at worst. She contemplated this quandary as she stared at her map of  Ferelden one night at camp.

Bridget sat near the roaring fire Alistair had made and listened to the stew bubbling in the cooking pot. Morrigan sat nearby and used her magic to delicately toast a few pieces of bread to be enjoyed with the stew. Zevran sharpened his daggers and inspected them closely with a well-trained eye. Leliana called everyone to eat, but Bridget didn’t move. She still gazed at the map and gently touched the landform that was marked as Highever with her fingertips.

Alistair emerged from his tent and rubbed his hands together before he pulled his cloak over his broad shoulders and made his way towards the fire. He thanked Leliana as she handed him two bowls of soup, a knowing smile playing across her lips as she knew he meant to sit next to Bridget. Alistair pretended not to notice the teasing ‘I told you so’ gaze of her eyes and strode over to where Bridget sat.

Alistair sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs. He offered her the bowl of stew and Bridget took it absentmindedly, not looking away from the map. Alistair nudged her affectionately and when she turned to look at him, he nodded towards the parchment.

         “Something on your mind?” he asked, before eating his first spoonful of the thick soup.

Bridget sighed as she looked down into her bowl of stew and gently played with her spoon, dipping, and scooping a small piece of potato as she turned her thoughts over in her head.

         “I just realized…we’re very close to Highever,” she whispered.

Alistair stuck another spoonful of soup in his mouth and leaned over Bridget slightly to look at the map. He nodded thoughtfully, eating  another spoonful before he replied.

         “Hmm…about two day’s journey maybe? Give or take?” he asked her.

Bridget nodded and glanced back at the map. She only ate a few bites  of stew before she set her bowl aside and stood. Bridget pulled her cloak around her and bid Alistair a listless goodnight as she walked away and climbed into her tent.

Alistair drew his brows together as he stared after her and frowned sadly. The closer they traveled to Highever, the sadder Bridget seemed to grow. As Alistair finished his bowl of soup, he grabbed Bridget’s abandoned bowl and continued to eat. After a few moments, he looked up, his gaze touching all of his companions around the fire. Alistair glanced back at the map once more, reaching over to grab it in one hand, and then stood, going to approach the others. He placed the two bowls in the “needing washing” pile, and cleared his throat, waiting until their conversation faded away and they all were looking up at him curiously.

         “I think we need to go to Highever,” he stated firmly.

Everyone looked at each other then turned their attention back to Alistair. Morrigan, of course, opened her mouth immediately to say something, but Alistair held up his hand.

         “Look, I know what we’re supposed to be doing right now more than anyone and I understand how important that is. But…we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Bridget’s seen us through so much, she’s led us time and time again safely through dangerous and impossible situations,  and she’s been here for us the whole time, never wavering or…-or shirking her responsibility. What I’m trying to say is…she may not get another chance to return home, to say goodbye. I think that closure would be good for her, I think it would help her begin to heal.”

The others were silent for a few moments as Alistair eagerly awaited their response. Zevran rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

         “Good thinking, my friend! This is a way that we can contribute something back to our wise, gracious leader, as I do certainly owe her for my continued breathing, but also - who knows what we will encounter while we are there?” Zevran then raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Maybe we can find… some sort of payback for the assassination of her family.”

Leliana and Wynne voiced their agreements to going as well. Alistair looked at Morrigan and braced himself for an argument, per usual, but found himself pleasantly surprised when she conceded.

         “Begrudgingly, I will admit that this could help her. I’m surprised you thought of this yourself, Alistair. Perhaps you are not as much of a fool as I originally took you for,” she noted.

Alistair decided to take Morrigan’s reply as a compliment and left it at that. He helped Leliana clean up after everyone had finished their meal and crawled into his tent to catch a few hours of sleep before he and Bridget took watch. When they sat next to each other later and stared into the fire, Alistair placed his arm around her so she could snuggle in close to him, while still forcing himself to stay alert to their surroundings. In the weeks that had followed since departing the forest, something else besides the seasons had changed. Alistair and Bridget’s relationship was new and exciting. Since that night on the lake, they had enjoyed any moment they could spare with each other.

Out of the prying eyes and ears of their companions, they would wait until everyone drifted off to sleep before hands and lips would begin to explore. Though they still were slow and had not done anything too out of the way with each other…Alistair hoped that it would not be long before they did. 

Bridget rested her head on Alistair’s shoulder and leaned into his body for warmth and comfort. She admitted, she had not felt much like herself as of late. She longed to return home but knew it would only be a distraction. Orzammar was still weeks away. Bridget knew the priority was to get there as soon as possible…yet the closer she drew to Highever, the harder a time she was having, reconciling what her brain knew they had to do with the call of her heart to return to her home, just one more time. s. How she longed to walk on those sandy shores, to hold a vigil for her family…just in case she would not get the chance in the future.

Alistair looked down at Bridget and could tell she was deep in thought. He guessed what she was thinking about and gently lifted her chin with his fingertips so that she would meet his gaze. Bridget blinked back the tears in her eyes and shook her head, whispering an apology, but Alistair shushed her and rested his forehead against hers. A moment passed, then another, before he kissed her softly, sweetly, and pulled back to whisper,

         “What if I told you…we’re setting course for Highever in the morning?”

Bridget drew back in surprise.

         “What?” she asked, unable to hide the joy in her voice.

Alistair smiled at her and caressed the side of her face.

         “I know how badly you want to go, so I talked with the others, and everyone agrees that it would be good for you. You need to be able to say your goodbyes to your family, Bridget. After all you have done for us, we decided this was the least we could do for you.”

Bridget’s eyes welled up with tears as she grinned and took Alistair’s face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, letting her lips and tongue glide over his own. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his and sighed happily.

         “You’re so wonderful…you know that, right?” she asked.

Alistair chuckled and gave her a crooked smile.

         “Well…I know I am rather fetching but…still doesn’t hurt to hear you say it,” he quipped.

Bridget laughed and kissed him again. Simple, short kisses grew into long, passionate ones full of desire. Hands explored and bunched up the fabric of their clothes as they wished more than anything to rid themselves of the confining material. Bridget moved and settled herself over Alistair, straddling him and holding him close. Alistair gently pulled the strings of her cloak away so that he could kiss her neck. He smiled against her as he felt gooseflesh erupt across her skin when his lips gently nibbled at the sensitive flesh there. Bridget moaned softly, as she didn’t want to disturb the others.

Alistair’s confidence had grown significantly since he had given Bridget his rose. His hands were no longer tentative, but eager and happy to explore. Though they had not shared a bed yet, Alistair hoped it would not be long before he could work up the courage and take their relationship to that step. He had to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, and on the cold, hard ground in their tent just wasn’t it.

The two Wardens enjoyed what they could of themselves before they fell into conversation, gazing into the fire until Wynne and Leliana took over for the rest of the watch. As Bridget crawled back into her tent once more, wishing Alistair was there with her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to return home. She did not know what awaited her, but was eager to return, nonetheless. However, Bridget would soon realize that home was a much different place than she had remembered it.

                                                                                                                                           xXx

As Bridget and the others trotted up to the gates of Highever, her elation at returning home was eclipsed by fear. The Cousland banner no longer hung down the front of the gate. Instead, it was the Howe family crest that danced eerily in the cold wind. Two guards were stationed outside of the gates and held up their hands as they stepped forward and began to interrogate the companions. The conversation was lost on Bridget’s ears as realization dawned on her. Of course, Howe meant to take Highever, he wouldn’t have sacked the place! Bridget didn’t know what was worse, finding her home occupied by her enemy’s men or if she would have preferred it to have been burnt to the ground.

         “You look a little heavily armored to be just ‘passing through’,” one of the guards noted as he eyed their weapons suspiciously.

Zevran, who used his master skills of coercion, gracefully shrugged his shoulders.

         “My good man, you do realize we are amidst a Blight, no? We only seek shelter as we continue our pilgrimage. You won’t even know we’re here!” he said, smiling winsomely.

The guards looked at each other warily before shrugging their shoulders and parting the way for the party to pass through. Bridget pulled her hood down low over her eyes and kept her head down as she and her friends guided their horses into town.

Bridget’s heart sank lower and lower the further she and her friends progressed into the city. The once vibrant atmosphere was only a shadow of what it used to be. Thick fog clung to the air like a shipwrecked sailor clings to a raft. As they approached the nearest inn, Bridget tied up her horse and then wandered behind the tavern to the docks. The frigid water of the Waking Sea splashed angrily, as if it too, knew that something was amiss. Bridget took a deep breath and blinked back tears. The air didn’t even smell the same as she remembered.

Alistair approached Bridget and gently rested his hand atop her shoulder. Bridget turned to face him and frowned as her lip trembled. Alistair enveloped her in a tight hug and Bridget found comfort in the warmth of his embrace. She opened her eyes and flicked them upward to gaze at her castle, perched on the cliffside. Howe’s insignia danced there, too, as if celebrating its master’s misdeeds. Bridget narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. She pulled back from Alistair’s embrace and kissed his cheek softly, thanking him for comforting her, and followed the others into the inn.

Despite how large the inn was, it was cozy. A large fire blazed in a fireplace nearby, and Bridget welcomed its warmth. She felt cold and unfamiliar in her own home, an unwelcome voyeur, like she no longer belonged here. She didn’t like the feeling, but instead of sadness, she was filled with anger. Everything about her family had been erased, and it seemed that everywhere she looked, Howe’s insignia mocked her.

The companions were lucky and found a secluded table a little apart from the other diners that occupied the large room. There were only a few villagers who  lingered somewhat nearby, finishing up their breakfast before starting the day. A plump woman with a kind face approached Bridget and her friends and laid out a basket of small loaves of fresh bread. She took their orders and eyed them carefully, noticing their weapons. Bridget stared down at the table, her hands folded atop it, until the woman walked away. Morrigan leaned forward to speak to their group, keeping her voice low.

         “There is a greater presence of the enemy than you had anticipated, Warden. As I see it,  we have two options: leave, or do something about it,” she stated.

Bridget slowly lifted her eyes to Morrigan’s to see a small, almost playful smile gracing her lips.

         “You know how I feel about revenge. I will not object should you choose violence,” she explained, smile still in place, almost challengingly.

Bridget looked at the others and they nodded their heads in compliance.

         “We’re with you, Bridget. Whatever you decide,” Alistair whispered, watching her face as she fought her internal battle.

His hand gripped her knee beneath the table comfortingly and Bridget nodded slowly. She glanced at her friends from beneath her hood.

         “First, we need to determine exactly how many men are here…and what happened to my father’s men. It will come down to taking back the castle from whoever is here. Would Howe himself be bold enough to stay here, or does he have a lackey in his place? I can not imagine he would stray very far from Loghain,” Bridget said thoughtfully.

Leliana flicked her eyes to the older woman who was now returning with their orders..

         “The only thing we can do is ask,” she offered.

The others straightened in their seats as the waitress began to place down an array of plates full of food in front of them. Eggs, sausages, chicken, more bread as Alistair and Zevran had nearly depleted the first basket already, a plate full of an array of cheeses, and more ale. Leliana smiled kindly at the woman.

         “Excuse me, my lady. We have traveled very far on our pilgrimage. We wondered if you could tell us a little bit about this city that we have found ourselves in?”

The waitress briefly cast a suspicious glance  around  Bridget and her friends and drew her brows together, before re-adopting her friendly and welcoming demeanor. She tossed her towel over her shoulder and placed her tray underneath her arm.

         “You find yourselves in Highever. We’re a port city in case you couldn’t tell as we sit on the edge of the Waking Sea. Not much other than that to tell you. We have tailors and smiths if you need something fixed. This is the best place for food, though,” she added with a wink.

Leliana nodded.

         “Indeed, everything looks lovely. As you can tell from my accent, I am not familiar with the politics of your nation. Tell me, is there someone in charge of this town? A mayor or perhaps a viscount?” she asked.

The warm smile left the woman’s face instantly. The deep, troubled frown made her appear older than what she was. She turned her head back to the bar where the innkeeper stood and waited until he disappeared into his storage room before she answered Leliana’s question.

         “The man who sits in that castle is no Teyrn of mine, nor this town’s! He is a usurper and nothing more! We had a good man, a good family that took care of us before he slaughtered them all! Someone who cared for his people…while this one leaves us to starve and rot at his doorstep!” she exclaimed quietly.

Bridget clenched her fists so tightly that it hurt. She began to bounce her knee beneath the table as she bit her tongue, trying to fight back tears. Alistair squeezed her knee again in an effort to keep her calm but shot her a warning glance as well so their cover would not be blown.

         “Goodness…I…I am sorry. Who is this man, this usurper?” Leliana pressed.

The waitress responded with a ‘humph’ as she readjusted the tray she carried beneath her arm and shook her head.

         “The son of the man responsible for the tragedy. He placed him here and gave Highever to him as a gift. Now that worm delights in our suffering. He’s filling his pockets with our hard work and barely giving us any earnings. Most of the townsfolk come here because they know my husband won’t overcharge them…but we are barely turning profits due to his generosity. Still…it is the least we can do. Many of the folk here, their husbands and wives are being held prisoner in the castle, she explained sadly.

Leliana caught Bridget’s gaze, but the waitress did not notice. She sighed.

         “I’m afraid if you came here for the sights, you will be very disappointed. My advice to you; don’t tarry and pass through as quickly as you can. They aren’t keen on strangers here, Thomas and his men—”

Bridget sucked in a breath.

         “Thomas?” she asked softly, her voice muffled from the scarf that covered her face. The woman still heard her though and drew her brows together.

         “Yes…” she began slowly.

Leliana smiled up at her and waved her off.

         “We thank you for your time, my lady. We will let you know if we require anything else,” she stated with a tone of finality.

The waitress continued to eye them suspiciously for a moment before she walked away back to the bar area of the tavern. Bridget released a shaky breath as she took her fork and knife and stabbed her piece of chicken angrily.

         “Thomas Howe sits in my castle…in my home…on my father’s throne…” she seethed.

The others looked at each other, waiting for an explanation. Surely, this was better than Rendon Howe himself sitting on the throne, they thought? Bridget clenched her utensils in her hand as she looked up at her friends.

         “Thomas and I were… kind of… quasi-betrothed,” she stated.

Alistair choked on the piece of cheese he was eating and started to cough violently. Wynne slapped him on the back, and he made a strangled sound before taking a deep swig of his ale and swallowed hard.

         “What?” he asked.

Bridget looked at him and shook her head.

         “Not ‘officially’. Howe always vied for a marriage between me and one of his sons because then they would have Highever. My father never agreed to it. He was always determined to let me find my own way,” she clarified.

Alistair breathed a very noticeable sigh of relief. Bridget and the others continued their meal as she revealed more.

         “Thomas was more of a weasel than his father, if possible. He acted entitled to everything and threw a tantrum whenever he didn’t get his way. The number of gifts he bestowed upon me believing he could buy my affection was laughable. But the fact that he is the one in my home, making my people suffer….we must do something,” Bridget finished determinedly.

Morrigan nodded.

         “And what is it you propose we do?” she asked, enjoying seeing this side of her friend.

Bridget lifted her gaze from her plate and looked at her friends.

         “We take back my home,” she declared.

Before anyone could voice their agreement, Bridget stood. Her chair scraped against the wooden floor loudly and she strode to the bar where the waitress from earlier stood cleaning a glass. She looked up in alarm as Bridget approached her.

         “Y-Yes?” she asked.

Bridget looked the woman in the eyes and bowed her head.

         “I must first beg your forgiveness for my absence…not just from you, but from everyone. I intended to die with my family that night, but fate had other plans…”

The waitress sucked in a breath as Bridget pushed back her hood revealing her golden blonde hair. Her lip trembled as she began to unravel her scarf.

         “Secondly, I offer my help in any way that I can give you to take back our home. But I cannot do it alone, not even with just the help of my friends. It will take all of us, I’m afraid. I do not want to ask the people to make that sacrifice if they are unable to, but any help they can give, I will gladly take.”

The waitress bowed graciously as Bridget removed the scarf completely and revealed her face. She let out a whimpered gasp and ran towards Bridget.

         “Oh, my lady, my lady, it’s you! You live!” she sobbed.

Bridget took the woman in her arms and hugged her tightly. Though she had only known her the short hour they had been present in the inn, Bridget felt as if she had known her for her entire life.

         “My name is Mary, please, let me introduce you to my husband, Berem. He’s back here,” she explained excitedly.

Mary took Bridget’s hand in hers and led her to the storage room in the back. She knocked gently and opened the door slightly when Berem grunted. Bridget peeked around Mary and her heart swelled with pride as her family’s banner hung proudly against the wall. There were several papers scattered around, papers she assumed were smearing Howe and his reign over the people of Highever.

         “Berem…someone is here that wishes to meet you,” Mary stated.

The large, burly man turned to face her, and his jaw became slack as his eyes locked with Bridget’s. Berem was a big man with a kind face hidden behind a large, red beard. He fell to his knees and took Bridget’s hands in his when she approached him.

         “Maker…I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. Milady Cousland…” he whispered in awe.

Bridget squeezed his hands back and lowered herself to her knees as well. She enveloped him in a hug just as she did Mary.

         “I’m here now and I’m going to drive this bastard out, I swear it. But I’ll need help,” she said. 

Berem nodded and stood with her. He bowed his head and then showed Bridget all of the paperwork scattered across his table.

         “I’ve been working tirelessly to use anything I can to smear his name. There are a few of his men I meet with regularly who are not loyal to him. They are trying to weaken his hold from the inside, but they are few in numbers. You might be able to inspire them though, Milady. And us townsfolk will do all we can to help you. We want our men and women who held your banner back so that they may hold it high once more.”

Bridget nodded and gripped Berem’s shoulder appreciatively.

         “Can you arrange a meeting with these men?” she inquired.

Berem nodded.

         “Yes. We have a secret meeting once a week. Ironically, they were due to come in this evening,” he mentioned.

Bridget grinned.

         “Excellent timing, then. My friends and I will meet with them this evening. You are sure they are not loyal to Howe?”

Berem crossed his heart.

         “I promise to you, Milady, they are not. They cried after what Howe did to your family and have atoned for the part that they played in it. I know for a fact they did not kill any innocents that night but hid away and listened to the screams of those that were murdered. From that night on, they may have bore Howe’s insignia on their chests, but they are Cousland men within their hearts.”

Bridget took a deep breath and glanced at Berem.

         “Then let us meet and let us concoct a plan to take back our home.”

  xXx

Berem was right, there were not many of Howe’s men who were disloyal to him. Bridget sat across the table from the four men who were: Henry, Brandon, Kenneth, and Mikkel. Though they assured her that there were others who had misgivings about their lord, most were too afraid to oppose him in fear of what he may do to them or their families.

Bridget could not fault them for this and pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes and listened to them argue about the best way to infiltrate the castle. Leliana suggested a frontal assault, as the only way into the castle was through the front, but they didn’t have a large enough force for a successful breach.

Alistair inquired about the holding cells of the prisoners. Bridget explained that the prison was within the underbelly of the castle. The only way to access it was also through the front gates and going down into the dungeons unless you scaled the cliffside and breached through them that way.

At her words, everyone stilled. Bridget looked at the deserters and they glanced at her. She looked at her friends and they all nodded at her as a single thought seemed to slip into each of them and their plan was forged. Bridget rolled out a map of the castle and held it down with a few weighted items so that it wouldn’t roll back up.

         “Team A can infiltrate the castle through the front gates. I can offer myself up as bait for Thomas, something I know for a fact he will not be able to resist, and I can distract him with dialogue while Team B begins to scale the cliffside. Morrigan, you will lead Team B. You can transform into a spider and scale the cliffside faster than any of us could ever hope.”

Morrigan smiled devilishly at the thought.

         “Hmm…I quite like this idea. When I transform, I’m large enough where I can carry two others with me. Assassin, I suggest I bring you and one of you deserters. We’ll need your quick fingers to help free the others and someone who is familiar with the layout of the cells and, more importantly, where the weapons are stored so we can arm these men and women.”

Zevran grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

         “Ahh…my fingers are indeed quick and skilled might I add…in case later you–”

Morrigan shot him an icy gaze that silenced him on the spot. Zevran shrugged playfully.

         “I kid, I kid! But yes, I’m quite well versed in the art of lock picking!”

 Bridget chuckled softly and returned her attention back to the task at hand.

         “Team A will be myself, Alistair, Leliana and Henry. Brandon and Kenneth will be stationed by the doors within the castle walls that lead down into the dungeons, which means Mikkel will be with Team B. When Morrigan and her team free the men and women from their cells, they will wait for my signal to open the gates and we will essentially flood them from behind,” she explained.

Alistair drew his brows together.

         “I’m a little nervous about you going to speak to Thomas. How do we know he’ll even come out to speak to you, instead of just having his archers attack you on sight ?” he asked uneasily.

Bridget gently brushed her hand against his and looked up at him.

         “Thomas likes to hear himself talk. And if he thinks there is any chance of me accepting the betrothal, he will be willing to speak for hours if he has to. The kind of man Thomas is… he always wanted me to marry him as some kind of conquest, to show that he is better than other men - not just because he was lucky enough to be born into a powerful family. But if he was able to marry me, to be able to unite the Howe and Cousland line by blood…. That would be the ultimate win for him, this legacy. And as I said earlier, he is even more underhanded than his father. He is smart enough to know that allying the Cousland line with his would be more beneficial for him long-term. And now I get to use that to our advantage,” she said, smiling deviously. 

The men now loyal to Bridget nodded in agreement.

         “This could work. This could really work. There are about a hundred Cousland guards in those cells, I would say about eighty still in a good shape to fight. Howe didn’t leave all his men with Thomas, there’s only one hundred and twenty of us, and as I said, some will not take much convincing to bend to our side. Especially when they see that Howe is clearly outmatched,” Brandon stated excitedly.

 Berem leaned in across the table and stated,

         “I’ve already sent word to the smith and others. They’re also willing to take up arms  to help defend you and assault the castle. You’ve got all Highever backing you up in some way, Milady. I think we can do this.”

Bridget smiled warmly at everyone assembled.

         “I am confident we can as well. But a few preparations need to be made. I need rumors swirling about that need to reach Thomas’s ears. Let him know that I am within the city walls and that I am intending to speak with him.”

Alistair shook his head.

         “Is that wise? We will lose the element of surprise if we alert him of your presence.”

Bridget tipped her head to the side.

         “In a way, yes. But we’ll have to distract him so that Team B can scale the cliffside. We’re not strong enough for a full-scale frontal assault. We’ll have to be cunning, clever, and outsmart him…which honestly won’t be hard to do. ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that. Thomas isn’t known for his wit.”

Alistair still felt a little worried about this plan, and that worry continued to eat at him as they marched towards the front of the castle. But he forced himself to bury that, and just have trust in Bridget. He knew how capable she was, especially when the odds were stacked against her. He glanced at Bridget and was in awe of her strength and beauty. The local blacksmith, a longtime friend of Bryce’s, had held onto a piece of armor that he had crafted for her in memoriam, hoping that the rumors were true that she survived.

He had given it to Bridget as soon as word reached him that she was in the Sailor’s Rest, and this new armor for her, proudly displayed her family’s crest emblazoned on the front of the breastplate. Her head was held high as she led her party through the front gates. She was determined to not back down or show fear; her family was depending on her. She wouldn’t let them down again.

Bridget swallowed the lump in her throat as she passed through the entrance and dismounted her horse. Her boots crunched against the cold gravel as she and her friends approached a row of heavily armored men. They had their weapons and shields at the ready. Watching, waiting patiently for any reason to attack.

         “Mmm…you’re as beautiful as ever,” a nasally voice stated.

Bridget narrowed her eyes as Thomas came into view. He was very heavily armored, which, to Bridget, showed that he was very nervous to meet with her. He sported the same pageboy haircut he had since he was a boy, the same haircut Fergus always made fun of. His crooked, long nose came to an unattractive point on his face and his flirtatious smile sent an uncomfortable shiver down Bridget’s spine. He was revolting in every possible way.

The air was still as Thomas moved to stand some feet away from her. His eyes raked over her in a way that made Alistair grip the hilt of his sword tighter, almost as if he were trying to see through her armor and gaze upon what lay beneath. Bridget stuck her chin out and frowned.

         “I see you haven’t changed much, Thomas,” she quipped.

Thomas grinned nastily and tipped his head to the side.

         “And I see that you have. You’re more buxom than I remember in the past. All the more meat to hold on to when I fuck you later.”

Alistair growled under his breath. She gave him a warning glance and shifted her eyes back to Thomas.

         “Is that what you think I am here for?” she asked.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

         “But of course! What other reason could there be? You surely realize the only way you can have Highever back is by marrying me, so you have finally come to me to accept the betrothal I so graciously, nay, generously laid at your feet years ago,” he replied snootily.

Bridget bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing out loud. She had forgotten just how delusional he could be.

Bridget heard a crow’s cry—Morrigan’s signal that she and her team had successfully scaled the cliffs. Bridget betrayed nothing on her face, but within, she was ecstatic. She smiled softly at Thomas and calmly folded her hands in front of her.

         “I am not here to marry you, Thomas,” she stated simply.

Thomas clicked his tongue and shook his head as he took a step towards her.

         “Oh, but you should be. There’s no other way you can have Highever. All it will take is a snap of my fingers and my men will slay you where you stand. So if you are indeed not here to accept my betrothal, then I cannot think of any other reason why you would show your face here, knowing that you are the enemy.”

Bridget swallowed and released a dark chuckle.

         “Oh Thomas, Thomas. How exactly am I the enemy? Within the walls of this castle, perhaps, but outside? I have an entire city backing me up. All the men and women whose lives you have ruined, all of these people who will give anything to see your head roll. I am not the enemy here, Thomas. You are. I intend to take back my castle and to put you in your place…six feet in the ground.”

Thomas threw his head back and laughed but it wasn’t a laugh full of confidence. There was a hint of nervousness to it as he silenced himself and held out his arms.

         “And how do you intend to do that? You and what army, Bridget? You’re clearly outmatched, outnumbered…those sad, pathetic villagers may carry torches and pitchforks for you, but they don’t know how to fight! They can’t do much damage to my armored guards!”

Another crow’s caw…signaling that all of the caged men and women had been freed, and that they were ready and  waiting at the doorway as Kenneth and Brandon moved to the levers that would open the doors for that group to attack Thomas and his men from behind. Bridget, appearing as un-threatening as she could, approached Thomas and stood inches away from his face, leaning into whisper:

         “What army, you ask? My army. The army you thought you broke—but only strengthened them tenfold. The army of men and women you’ve kept locked in the dungeon all this time. They want their home back, Thomas. And I intend to give it to them. NOW!”

At Bridget’s signal, Kenneth and Brandon threw the lever to the dungeons back and released the men and women who had been held within for too long. They screamed rallying cries and the Cousland name as they flooded into the courtyard, taking Thomas and his men by surprise. Steel clashed upon steel; iron met with iron in a fierce battle for dominance. Morrigan scurried along in spider form shooting webs to immobilize Howe’s men so that Cousland guards could strike them down.

         “We will take back our home, even if we die trying! You do not belong here, you usurper!” Bridget shouted, drawing her sword and shield.

Her men rallied around her as the battle ensued. Leliana found a good vantage point and rained arrows from above while Zevran covered her from the enemy archers. He had an array of throwing knives, which, coupled with his precision and accuracy, made quick work of any who wished her harm. Wynne conjured a powerful snowstorm and centered it on the bulk of Thomas’s men, slowing them down and making it impossible for them to see. Zeus happily went after any enemy he could, sinking his teeth into their limbs and shredding them to pieces. His long claws and solid body could easily knock over two men at a time, and if they were not quick to recover from the blow, his teeth would tear at their flesh.

Bridget and Alistair fought near each other. Bridget engaged Thomas in combat and was surprised at how skillful he was, given his typical sniveling attitude. He was mostly dodging and evading but would occasionally take the offensive against her. Remembering her old swordmaster’s lessons, she was able to quickly notice a pattern in Thomas’s movements. Clearly, he didn’t need to fight in heavy armor very often; it slowed him down, and he became sluggish and fatigued rather quickly. Bloodseeped into the ground around Bridget, staining it red. The cries of Thomas’s men were soon drowned out by the cries of victory from Bridget’s.

Thomas looked around frantically at his men, noting that many had fallen. Those that had not were on their knees, their hands up and their heads down, acknowledging their defeat and surrendering graciously. Thomas turned his attention back to Bridget as she strode towards him. Blood was splattered all over her, yet  the Cousland insignia shone brightly on her breastplate.

Thomas, backing away from Bridget’s determined advance, tripped over a body of one of his men and scurried backwards. He saw no remorse or mercy in her eyes as he held up his hands in defeat. He did the only thing he was good at his whole life…

He begged.

Thomas bowed before her feet as tears fell from his eyes.

         “Forgive me…forgive me! I’m sorry! Just don’t kill me, please let me live! I-I’ll repent my sins, I’ll join a Chantry! Anything please, I just want to live!”

Bridget narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn’t going to fall for his trick but paused for a moment as her conscience pricked the back of her mind.

         Are you any better than Howe if you murder his son?

xXx

That evening, there was great merriment and excitement at the Sailor’s Rest . The people of Highever filled the large tavern and danced, sang, drank, and filled their bellies with a grand feast. Berem and Mary kept a steady flow of food and ale from the kitchens as some of the wives of the men helped to distribute it amongst the festive villagers. Bridget and her friends were revered as heroes, but Bridget most of all.

Her people swore their fealty to her, and Bridget took the time to speak to each of them, to hug them and hear their words of thanks. In a moment of reprieve from the boisterous music and dancing, Bridget addressed her people and stated,

         “I am a Grey Warden now, and I must see my quest through to end this Blight. But I swear to you, good people of Highever, I will not abandon you any longer. If I survive, I will return to you as your Teyrn if you will have me!”

Bridget was met with a raucous agreement of cheers and well wishes. She hopped down from the table she had stood on to address everyone and gazed out across the happy faces she saw. Her companions were making merry with the others, dancing and laughing. Leliana sat nearby on Zevran’s lap playing a tambourine as he regaled the children with a fantastical tale from his travels, leaving out the gorier parts of course.

Morrigan and Mikkel were engaged in a battle of wits over a game of Wicked Grace. Henry sat at Morrigan’s side, and Brandon on the other side of Mikkel, as they urged the pair to continue, and persuaded them to gamble a little money as well. Wynne sat among a small group of ladies and gave a brief lesson on making poultices for their loved ones. Zeus languidly stretched in front of the fire, full of meat given directly from Berem himself. His eyes were heavy, and he yawned complacently.

Bridget stifled a yawn herself and began to make her way towards the staircase. She climbed it and cast another glance out at the merriment below her. And here was where their eyes met. Bridget found Alistair’s warm, honey eyes gazing up at her. She smiled as he raised his mug to her and bowed her head to him before she disappeared down the hall leading to their rooms.

         Alistair smiled up after her and downed the rest of his ale. He placed his mug on the table and quickly began to squeeze his way through the crowd of people. He hadn’t been able to speak to Bridget yet since their victory. He was eager to have a moment alone with her. Alistair wasn’t sure if it was the bit of alcohol, he had consumed giving him the courage that swam through his veins as he made his way towards that staircase, or if it was his own confidence and conscious telling him that it was time– when else would he get a chance like this? He grinned as he continued his way towards the stairs but stopped abruptly when Zevran appeared out of nowhere and grinned sheepishly up at him.

         “Mmhmm and where are you off to?” he asked suggestively, with a slight drunken sway.

Alistair shrugged and attempted to look casual.

         “It’s been a long day. I’m turning in for the night,” he stated innocently.

Zevran waggled his eyebrows and laughed heartily. He slapped Alistair on the back and shook his head.

         “Oh, my good friend, as I said once before, you are a terrible liar. I know exactly what you intend to do when you climb those stairs…and so I offer you a parting gift,” Zevran explained as he withdrew a crumpled piece of paper.

Alistair became confused as he took the paper from Zevran.

         “What is this…exactly?” He asked as he opened it and stared at the scribbled image on the inside.

Zevran chuckled and took the paper from Alistair and flipped it, so it was right side up. Alistair glanced at it again and blushed furiously.

         “I took the time to draw you a diagram! No need to thank me! Now, let me give you a brief rundown. This here is the most important part of a woman’s pleasure—”

Alistair crumpled up Zevran’s ‘gift’ and shoved past the elf as he took the stairs two at a time.

         “Not necessary!” he shouted over his shoulder as he ascended the rest of the stairs.

Zevran grinned up at his friend as Leliana strode over to stand by the now-giggling elf. 

         “What was all that about?” she asked.

Zevran languidly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She gave a surprised laugh and smiled at him.

         “Oh, nothing. Our little Chantry boy is growing up, that is all! Come, my dear, let us show these Fereldans the proper way to dance the Pavane!”

xXx

Alistair reached the top of the staircase and didn’t hesitate in his search for Bridget. He found her standing at the end of the hall, staring up at a portrait of her father. Alistair watched as Bridget placed her hand to her father’s shoulder in his portrait. He didn’t want to interrupt the moment she needed and listened as her soft voice graced his ears.

         “Our home is ours again, Father. I felt you with me as we took it back. Our men will proudly fly our banner once more. Tomorrow, I will hold a vigil for you and the others with the entire town. I cannot give you a proper burial, but I will ensure that you are at peace, I swear it. I love you, Father.”

Bridget gently kissed her fingertips and placed them to the side of her father’s face before she turned around and noticed Alistair standing some feet away. She smiled softly at him, tears still slowly rolling down her face, as she approached him. Alistair quickly returned her smile.

         “I…I just wanted to tell you that I’m so happy we won back your home and that I played a part in helping you, however small,” he stated, rubbing his hands comfortingly down her arms as she reached him.

Bridget shook her head and gently held his fingers with hers.

         “You had a larger role than you realize, since you’re the one who convinced everyone else we should come here. For that, I will always be grateful to you.” She then wiped the tears from her cheeks, finally feeling some peace in her body, now that she was in this quiet place with Alistair.

Alistair smiled warmly before he delicately cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Bridget returned the kiss and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer. Within moments, her back was flush with the door to her room as they continued to kiss, hands roaming and gently pulling at the fabric of their clothes. Alistair broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Bridget’s, intent on catching his breath.

         “I need to tell you something,” he whispered.

Bridget looked up at him, swallowing nervously, and sucked in a breath.

         “Anything,” she replied.

Alistair bumped his nose against hers and released a shaky breath.

         “I love you. Maker knows, I love you so much. You’re everything to me, Bridget. I want to be with you, and… I want to stay with you tonight,” he confessed.

Bridget’s eyes widened as a jolt of giddy desire shot through her veins. She raised her right hand to lightly caress the side of his face.

         “Are you sure?” she asked. It was important to Bridget that this was Alistair’s decision. As much as she desired him, and Maker knows how viscerally she desired him, she never wanted to pressure him in any way.

Alistair laughed at her concern and nodded.

         “Never been more sure about anything in my life,” he told her huskily.

Bridget grinned and pulled him into a heated kiss. She smiled against his lips and when they parted, she said,

         “I love you too,” in a breathless whisper.

Maker, it felt so good to say it out loud to him and not just imagine it in her dreams. Alistair enveloped her into a tight hug as his lips crashed against Bridget’s. She reached behind her and fumbled with the doorknob to her room before she was finally able to open it and they stumbled inside.

They parted, only for a moment, just long enough for Alistair to lock the door before they returned to one another with an unquenchable heat. Their lips caressed each other slowly, sensually. Alistair wanted more than anything to take his time but dammit, he wanted to see her, and wanted her to see him.

         “I’m, uh… a little nervous,” Alistair admitted as he began to pull at the strings of Bridget’s shirt.

Bridget nodded her head as she lifted her arms. Alistair slid his hands beneath her shirt and groaned as he touched her warm flesh.

         “I am too, it’s okay,” she breathed.

Bridget helped Alistair pull her shirt off, and returned the favor, sucking in a breath as she couldn’t stop herself from touching his bare chest. His fine chest hair glowed softly from the lit candles around the room, and she admired his perfection. He was solid, sculpted,and toned; everything about him seemed as if the Maker made Alistair just for her. 

The way his hair so perfectly accentuated his maleness , the strength of his chest, how it gave such fine detail to his masculinity, and how it trailed in a small line down his stomach, almost as if it were a map to his happiest of places. Her eyes admired him hungrily, her fingers ached to touch him all over, and she felt her inner fire liquefy her warm center. Bridget reached behind her and unclasped her band, wanting to have her chest bared to Alistair as his chest was bared to her.

Alistair released a breath as his eyes raked over her. His eyes lingered over her full and perfect breasts. She approached him and began to pull at the ties of his breeches. Alistair rested his hands on her hips and slid down her thick leggings, taking her smalls with them. They each laughed good-humoredly as they realized their boots were in the way, and quickly moved to remove their own shoes and now-bunched clothing. Once their pants had been removed and they stood completely bare before one another for the first time, they let their eyes roam and explore.

Bridget flushed as her eyes trailed from Alistair’s chest, down his hips, and to his throbbing cock that was certainly ready for attention. She noted his strong thighs and thick legs and felt herself become more aroused the more she studied his form. Alistair, too, was nearly speechless as he let his gaze travel over his love. He had seen her breasts before, but he still allowed his eyes to linger there for a moment before he cast them lower, down her abdomen, below her navel and… wow .

Slowly and appreciatively, his gaze slid downward. The small patch of hair she had between her legs was as golden as the hair on her head. Bridget blushed beneath the intensity of Alistair’s gaze, feeling honored that she was the woman who was lucky enough to be sharing his first experience with him, and, honored because he loves her. She shyly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him. The tender look on his face was enough to make her melt, and her heart swelled with the depth of her emotion for him.

         “Maker’s Breath but you’re beautiful…I’m the luckiest man in all of Thedas…and I know damn well I’m the happiest one,” he breathed in a husky whisper.

They closed the space between them as their mouths collided against each other once more. Bridget’s body ached for Alistair’s touch, but she didn’t want to rush this moment with her own selfish desire. She wanted Alistair to be the one to set the pace; whatever he was comfortable with or wanting to do, in each moment. She wanted this to be a new experience for her, too, not wanting her past to collide with this stolen moment with her love.

It was as if the very air around them was electrified as their lips moved against one another’s in a perfect rhythm. Their kisses went from fierce and passionate, to slow and tender, then back to unbridled passion. Alistair’s hands explored Bridget’s solid yet feminine figure, appreciating the dip of her waist as it lowered and widened into her round hips. She lolled her head back to give him the room his lips hungrily sought in their desire to explore her neck. 

She yelped in surprise when he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her to the bed, feeling his arousal press against her lower abdomen, just above where she wanted it to press. Alistair laid her back against the mattress gently, his body following hers, continuing to kiss her and caressing her, touching her as if he would never get to again. Bridget smiled and giggled as he trailed his kisses over her breasts.

He wasn’t as shy as she thought he would be, his confidence only fanning the flames of her desire even more. Alistair boldly kneaded her full breasts in his hands with a tenderness Bridget had never known. She gasped as he lashed his tongue out and flicked it against her nipple and she dug her nails into his broad shoulders as he closed his hot mouth around it and sucked gently.

Bridget moaned loudly and arched her back, her breasts abruptly starving for Alistair’s attentions. Alistair took this encouragement gladly, laving her pert mounds generously with his tongue, using the sounds Bridget would make as a guide to what she enjoyed most. 

In time, Alistair moved back to her lips and claimed her mouth once more. The kiss was slow, hungry; full of love and want. Bridget played with his hair as Alistair let his hands roam, enjoying the feel of her soft, silky skin under his calloused, rough hands. Their kiss broke and he raked his gaze over her, wanting to touch every part of her that he could. Maker, she was extraordinary.

They became cartographers as they studied the maps of each other’s skins, astrologers as they connected freckles and scars like constellations in the night sky. Love marks from their bruising kisses sprinkled across various places of their flesh, but they didn’t care. To the Fade with what anyone else thought. They were in love, they were together, and they were happy. 

Alistair rolled so that his body blanketed Bridget’s, his length pressing against her damp heat. Bridget shifted her hips to press further against his hardness, to get the tip wet from her, but also to glide it toward its goal. Alistair groaned delightfully, and Bridget smiled seductively, unashamedly proud of herself for being able to stir such a reaction in him. 

Alistair felt his cock reach her opening, and he searched Bridget’s eyes for approval. She nodded encouragingly, and he closed his eyes in concentration and slowly pushed himself into her. She gasped as he stretched her deliciously, and all Alistair could focus on for a moment was his thought of don’t cum yet! as he felt her warm, wet, tightness clench around his aching cock. Finally, he was buried in her to his hilt, and their bodies were one.

Bridget, though she had had sex before, had never felt this… connection, this ‘stars aligning’ experience she was having right now. It almost felt like…she could feel the bonds of fate tying her to Alistair, her friend, her lover. She decided to dwell on this another time and gave herself fully over to the pleasure he was giving her…pleasure only he could deliver. 

Alistair, upon being fully inserted, let out his breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and again searched Bridget’s eyes, making sure she was okay. The sight he saw, Bridget’s face lit up with hunger and lust for him, spurred him into action. He settled his arms onto his elbows, found a comfortable position for his legs to hold the rest of his body weight, and began to move inside her.

As he slowly slid his cock in and out of her, drawing those desperate pleas, those heavy sighs, he was more aroused than he had ever been in his life. To think, he had been so nervous and yet all of this came so naturally. It was almost as if he knew exactly where to kiss and how to touch, even though he knew there would certainly be room for improvement on his end, diagram or no, he considered himself to be doing quite well based on Bridget’s reactions. 

Alistair was briefly concerned that he should be doing something else, or something more , but she was urging him on, so he set that worry aside. His chief concern now was to make sure that she got to reach her pinnacle first. He was determined to have this go differently than it did in the hut, but Maker’s Breath he had no idea how he was going to achieve that. Alistair put his whole heart and soul into concentrating on holding in his orgasm, which was so difficult, with how absolutely tight and perfect Bridget was around him.

Alistair didn’t really know what he had imagined this would be like, but he was positive that he could have never imagined this. The way Bridget’s arousal just enhanced her scent of rose oil and lavender, the light sheen of sweat and rosiness that touched her skin from cheeks to the tops of her breasts just added to her beauty in his eyes. His heart was more full of love and tenderness than he ever thought possible. And as she called out his name and her core clenched around him in the throes of orgasm, Alistair was finally able to let his mind relax, and in that moment, feeling her body clench around him, his orgasm was coaxed out of him.

He was definitely not anticipating how powerful his climax would be, but it knocked the breath out of him, and he semi-collapsed on top of Bridget. She hummed in satisfaction, and lovingly caressed his sweaty, muscular back. She always loved the scent of lovemaking in the air, and having it be her scent mingled with Alistair’s… she didn’t think she could love it any more. Plus, there was a level of satisfaction to be enjoyed in the sweat that intermingled on their bodies- proof of a job well-done.

Alistair felt like a nearly drowned sailor in a sea of love. Soon, their breathing returned to normal, and they looked at each other and smiled. Alistair grinned as he pulled Bridget into his arms and kissed her slick forehead. They were quiet for a moment as their breathing regulated. Bridget looked up at Alistair and gently traced his lips with the tip of her pointer finger.

         “So…was it everything you thought it would be?” she asked softly.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Alistair’s chest as his grin broadened and a fine blush spread across his cheeks.

         “Maker no…it was so much better,” he admitted.

Bridget laughed and gasped as Alistair took her finger into his mouth, sucked on it for a moment, and then released it. Bridget sighed happily and breathed in his scent. Alistair looked at her with a tenderness that melted her heart.

         “I wish we could stay like this forever,” he stated.

Bridget shifted and propped herself up on her elbow to face him.

         “Who says we can’t?” she asked.

Alistair looked at her and raised a brow. She smiled.

         “I mean yes, we do have the Blight to resolve but…if we survive it, there’s always afterwards.”

Alistair nodded, hopeful and slightly nervous for what may come.

         “For now, I’m grateful for this moment. I love you, Bridget.”

Bridget kissed him softly and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

         “I love you too, Alistair. Always.”

         “Always,” he repeated.

Sleep came quicker than either of them expected, but the two Wardens awoke sometime in the night refreshed and eager to make love again, and again, and again. They didn’t care if anyone could hear them, if anyone had something negative to say. They finally confessed their love, finally made love and, in the bleakness of the Blight, had found a happiness neither one of them had ever known.

As Alistair snored softly with his head resting on Bridget’s chest, she gently played in his hair as a tear rolled from her eye. She was so happy and thankful for him, even though she knew they would have never met had the tragedy not befell her family. But Alistair made it better. He made life worth living…and that was something Bridget wasn’t sure she would ever feel again, after what had happened to her family, until she had met him. The bonds of fate had been tied, and as she closed her eyes and let sleep take over her exhausted body, she hoped she would never have to know a world without him, without her Alistair.

xXx

         Howe sat in his study in the castle at Denerim. He was to meet with Loghain soon and didn’t want to be late, so he went somewhere that the common person could not interrupt him. He was not expecting anyone today, yet was surprised, and annoyed, when two of his men appeared at his door. He called for them to enter and raised a quizzical brow at the box they carried.

         “What is that?” he demanded.

The men shrugged.

         “For you, my lord.” They replied.

Howe narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He stood from his chair and walked around his desk. There was a folded parchment atop the lid of the wooden crate. Howe took it slowly and grabbed a letter opener to slide it beneath the seal. Howe furrowed his brow as he noticed the seal bore his insignia. He opened the letter and sucked in a breath as his eyes slowly glanced at the dark red ink. Blood. This letter was written in blood. But whose blood? Howe read the letter slowly and swallowed the scream that rose in the back of his throat.

         Arl Howe,

I will descend upon you like a plague, slowly at first and then suddenly, all at once. You took our future away and now; I have taken yours. I no longer fear you.

B. E. Cousland

Howe dropped the letter and released a yelp as he snatched the box from the guard’s hands and tore away the lid. He screamed in horror as he looked into the box and dropped it. Thomas’s head rolled out of the box and continued sickeningly across the floor. Howe crawled to his desk and drew his knees to his chest as he sobbed and rocked back and forth.

         “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! Thomas, no…not my boy. Not my baby boy.”  he whimpered fearfully. 

Howe covered his mouth as he wailed loudly and shook with sobs. So, she did live. Probably killed the assassin he had spent a fortune on too! A new fear embedded itself into Howe’s bones as a thought crossed his mind. Bridget had taken back her home, she had the support of an entire Teyrnir behind her. She could raise an army, if she wanted to. She could take back Amaranthine, if she wanted to…come to Denerim if she wanted to…

A cold sweat trickled down the back of Howe’s neck as he glanced back at Thomas’s head across the floor and snapped his eyes shut. How would he tell Loghain about this? It was such an abject failure on his part that Loghain, he was sure, would throw him out on the spot and offer no support. This was never Loghain’s problem to begin with, why would he care what happened so long as it didn’t interfere with him being Regent? 

Howe ran a hand down his face as he swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of his throat. He knew he was now on borrowed time, yet there was nothing he could do but sit and wait. He was alone in this, he was the one who begged Loghain to allow him to attack Highever that night, he alone made the choices he had and set himself on this path of destruction…and now…

The hourglass had been flipped. The sands of time until Bridget appeared before him slowly began to pour. He did not know when, he did not know how, but soon…she would find him and exact the vengeance that she so desperately searched for. Howe began whispering to himself, panicking and continuing to rock back and forth. He did not notice the disapproving look his guards gave him, nor did he react when they removed his insignia from their chests and laid down their weapons. 

The two guards left the room without so much as a second glance at Howe. He was alone, more alone than he had ever been in his entire life. Howe began to sob as he clasped his hands together to pray to the Maker. Desperate men will always fall back on religion to save them when they believe their lives are at stake, after all. He prayed and sobbed and prayed and sobbed as he accepted the fact that it was now his turn to be afraid. Bridget Elizabeth Cousland had put a mark on his head, and she intended to exact her vengeance.

It was only a matter of time.

Chapter Text

Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon

Highever

The darkening sky bade farewell to the last remnants of sunset  as the citizens of Highever walked in a silent vigil to the edge of the sea. In their hands, they held paper mâché lanterns that they would release into the  sky in remembrance of their friends and family that were lost  the night Howe attacked the castle. Bridget kept her head down and listened as a few villagers spoke, regaling Bryce in all his glory and remembering the Cousland family, and others with endearment and warmth.

Soon, all the villagers had said their piece, and it was Bridget’s turn to address them. She stood in front of the cairns that had been placed to mark her family’s resting place, since there were no bodies, and took a deep breath. Bridget felt her lip tremble as tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled and began her eulogy. 

As darkness fell around them and the moon greeted the spectators for the evening, Bridget made the crowd laugh with memories and made tears fall at others. As she finished, she turned to the cairns and placed her fingertips to her lips. She gently placed them on the top stone of the cairn for her father and softly said her goodbye.

         “I feel you with me everywhere I go. I know that I am not in this alone. I love you, Father. I am thankful for the time that I had with you and will cherish all the memories we made. My only regret is that my future children will not know what one of your bear hugs feel like…but I will make sure that they will know you. Guide me on the path that I am to take, guide my blade, and keep my shield arm strong. I will not let you down. I promise.”  

Bridget released a shaky breath and wiped her eyes and stepped back from the cairn. She looked to Morrigan and nodded her head. The mage whispered a spell and each lantern was lit with a small, unwavering flame within. . Alistair approached Bridget and handed her a lantern. Bridget’s hands were shaking as she attempted to let her lantern go.

Part of her felt she was unable to let it go, as if by doing so, she was saying goodbye to her family forever. Alistair placed his hands over hers and reassured her softly that no matter what, they would always be with her. As she soaked in Alistair’s words, he helped her release the lantern and together, they watched it float away up to greet the twinkling stars. The other villagers followed suit and watched in amazement as the lanterns lit up the sky anew, as if the sun had reemerged from beyond the veil of night.

 That had been nearly a week ago and the memory of witnessing all the villagers celebrate the life of her family and their loved ones kept Bridget warm amidst the cold, unyielding winds. The days were frigid and freezing. Snow now fell heavily from the skies as she and her party traversed deeper into the Frostbacks. Yet, while the days were spent trembling beneath the harsh winds, the nights were warm, and full of passion within Alistair’s arms.

Nearly every night since their first, they spent making love until their bodies were too tired and spent to possibly go on any longer. It was a thrilling, new experience for them both.  While their companions had not outwardly said anything towards them, Bridget had an inkling that they all knew something was going on…and one day whilst the party was trudging through the snow, Bridget’s suspicions were confirmed when Morrigan caught up with her and commented,

         “You do realize you haven’t stopped smiling since we left Highever?”

Bridget felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she could feel the eyes of her other companions on her instantly.

         “Oh? Hmm…I hadn’t really noticed,” she stated coolly.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow and scoffed.

         “Don’t play dumb with me, Warden. I know this is that fool, Alistair’s doing. He must be an impeccable companion in bed because I cannot see how you withstand any conversation.”

Bridget laughed and cleared her throat as she could hear Alistair groan from embarrassment behind her.

          “He doesn’t strike me as the type who knows how to pleasure a woman,” Morrigan noted.

Bridget raised her eyebrows.

          “Heh, well…he’s certainly a fast learner. Best part is, I get to teach him exactly what I like and,”

Alistair edged himself between the two women and frowned.

           “Ah - Excuse me, I am right here, you know?” he asked in exasperation.

All the companions joined in a friendly chuckle at Alistair’s expense, but all in good fun. He put his arm around Bridget and pulled her close as he bent towards her ear.

           “I’m definitely getting you back for that one later,” he whispered huskily.

Bridget chuckled and squeezed him close. Unfortunately for Alistair, however, he would have to wait. As the gates of Orzammar loomed ominously in the distance, the companions could tell that something was amiss. Bridget had hoped that Orzammar  would be a welcoming place, but the deep-seated  prejudice for the surface had nestled itself within the council. Of course, the kingdom of the dwarves had its own problems, just as the mages and Dalish had. However, this time, things seemed much more serious.

The Dwarven King, Endrin Aeducan, had passed and it seemed that it was Bhelen Aeducan, King Endrin’s son, who was facing off against Endrin’s most trusted advisor, Harrowmont, to succeed the late king.  Unfamiliar with Dwarven politics, Bridget really had to consider her options carefully - knowing that the new ruler would greatly impact not just the future of the Dwarves, but the whole world itself. She knew she needed to support the future ruler that would help her with ending the Blight. Bridget would have believed Bhelen instantly, were he not such a prick. Normally, she would have aligned herself with the calm and collected Harrowmont, however, after some poking around and speaking with a few residents in Orzammar, she discovered that his ideals and vision did not show any attempt at progress or a way forward.

Harrowmont’s vision would only cause further turmoil. So, when Bridget found Bhelen’s right hand, Vartag, and spoke with him, she felt as if she had come to a moral impasse. While she did not approve of the underhanded and downright sneaky impression that Vartag gave, she could not ignore Bhelen’s ideals or passion. According to Vartag, Bhelen loved his people and wanted to banish the caste system so that everyone could reach their full potential, no matter their class. Bridget conceded that Bhelen’s ideals were much more progressive and made the decision to align herself with his cause.  

As with any enemy, Harrowmont had his fanatics that attempted to attack Bridget and her friends in the streets, but for the most part, Bridget felt as if Bhelen was the favored choice of the people. After Vartag had given her the task of wiping out Jarvia, the feared Carta leader in Dust Town, he promised the Bhelen would agree to meet with Bridget and discuss the treaties. Seeing this as the only way to move forward with her quest, Bridget sought out Jarvia and her gang in Dust Town.

The task of finding Jarvia was not an easy one. After speaking with several residents within the lowest section of Orzammar, Bridget finally gained entrance to her secret hideout which was a maze of winding tunnels that led to dead end after dead end. Bridget led her friends through the twisting labyrinth, fighting off Jarvia’s mercenaries as they progressed. Once they finally made their way to the end and faced the mercenary leader, everyone was exhausted and covered in blood and dust.

Jarvia was a skilled rogue and had an array of abilities that she used to her advantage. Her mercenaries seemed to never end as they filled the room one after another, advancing the assault on Bridget and her friends. Exhaustion from fighting wave after wave of these strangely-devoted thugs meant that the battle took longer than anyone had hoped or wanted, but eventually Bridget and the others were victorious. Zevran had landed the killing blow, and found a hidden heap of gold that he pocketed as his reward for a job well done.

As they returned to the royal palace, Vartag greeted them with a wicked grin as Bridget presented proof of Jarvia’s demise; her ring finger with the symbol of her carta etched into a golden ring. Vartag placed the trophy on a silver platter and stated he would present it to Bhelen immediately. Upon his return, Bridget was relieved when he relayed Bhelen’s message that he would meet with them over a banquet that evening. Bridget and her friends were given rooms to stay in and were asked to freshen up before the banquet. A few handmaids came into Bridget’s room and explained how to use the water system, provided her with soaps and towels, and left quietly.

Bridget eyed the piping and intricate handles to the bathtub in her room. She was fascinated by the technology. 

The Dwarven inventors were clearly ahead of the surface. To have a system of running water within one’s home was a luxury that could only be dreamed of topside. It took Bridget a few minutes before she figured it all out, but eventually, she had a steaming bath waiting for her. She smiled as she poured her oils and scents and gently touched the water to mix them in, creating a soft foam atop the water. 

Just as she pulled at the ties of her robe, she heard a knock at her door. Bridget grinned and called entry to whoever was on the other side, though she had a fair idea of who it was. As Alistair quickly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, Bridget raked her eyes over him and smirked. She knew him too well. Alistair locked the door and glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes already darkened with desire. Bridget raised her eyebrows and twirled the sash of her robe as she bent forward and placed her hand into the water to check the temperature. She gave Alistair a coy glance and tipped her head to the side. 

            “Why are your clothes still on?” she asked seductively. 

Alistair shot her a lopsided grin and closed the space between them. He pulled her hips towards his and kissed her hard on the mouth. Bridget languidly wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled against his lips as she felt him grip her bottom firmly in his hands. Alistair broke the kiss and brushed his nose against hers and chuckled. 

             “I can fix that,” he stated eagerly. 

Bridget felt her center tingle in anticipation as she watched Alistair pull his shirt over his head. She would never tire of seeing his muscles flex, never tire of worshipping his physique. As he continued to undress, she was pleased to see he was already rock hard and ready. He had certainly come to her room with a purpose.

And while Bridget wanted to fulfill that need more than anything, she knew they had to meet with Bhelen soon and time was of the essence. Still…she had planned to take a bath; she was sure Alistair wouldn’t mind joining her. 

As Alistair tossed his pants and smalls behind him, he clenched his jaw to bite back a moan as he watched Bridget untie her robe and brush it from her shoulders, revealing herself to him. Alistair raked his eyes over Bridget’s body and groaned softly as he drew his gaze from her full breasts, down her flat stomach, and to those wide, tantalizing hips. Bridget gestured to the tub. 

             “Care to join me?” She asked, as she placed her hand on her hip. 

             “As if I could say no to you,” Alistair chuckled in response, a small flush of pink highlighting his cheekbones. 

Bridget grinned as she stepped into the tub. She sighed happily as the hot water enveloped her, warming her immensely. She could already feel the tension leaving her neck and shoulders, drifting away. Alistair climbed in behind her and immediately pulled her to him, sloshing water over the side of the tub. Alistair turned her to face him and kissed her deeply.  Bridget laughed as he placed hot kisses along her throat. Alistair groaned and found her bottom. He lifted her slightly and rolled his hips into hers. Bridget shook her head and broke the kiss. 

             “Goodness, you’re certainly eager, aren’t you?” She teased. 

Alistair shrugged.

             “It’s been so long ,” he whined. 

Bridget threw her head back and laughed. After she stifled her laughter, she shook her head. 

             “It’s only been three days, Alistair!” She exclaimed. 

Alistair pouted and then kissed her firmly on the mouth again. He slid his tongue across Bridget’s bottom lip, and she opened her mouth wider to oblige him. Bridget moaned softly as their tongues touched. Alistair let his hand fall to her breast, and he kneaded it in his hand.

             “Every second I’m not inside of you feels like a lifetime,” he whispered huskily. 

Bridget licked her lips and released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She eyed him playfully and grabbed her soap. 

             “Well then…let’s do this: we’ll have a nice bath now, we’ll go meet with Bhelen, ah, no pouting! I haven’t finished yet,” she explained. 

Alistair tilted his head to the side. 

             “Okay…then what?” He asked. 

Bridget poured some soap in her hands and rubbed them together to lather it. She then began to run her hands down her neck and over her breasts. She noticed that Alistair was watching her intently, so she made sure to wash her breasts slowly as she enjoyed the reaction she stirred within him.

             “As I was saying, we’ll meet with Bhelen and get that over with, then we can come back here and spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms with absolutely no interruptions.”

Alistair perked up at this and raised a brow as he placed his hands over Bridget’s breasts and continued to lather them in soap. 

             “So long as I am inside you at some point tonight, I don’t care when it is. Though…are you sure we don’t have enough time now for anything?”

Bridget hmm’ed thoughtfully and rinsed the soap from her and quickly washed her hair as Alistair cleaned himself as well. She chuckled softly to herself, smiling wickedly as a titillating thought crossed her mind. She and Alistair got out of the tub and began to dry off. Bridget squeezed the excess water from her hair as Alistair moved to stand in front of the fireplace. He was looking for his smalls he had discarded earlier and was surprised when he felt Bridget’s hand smack his bottom. He chuckled and jumped a little with surprise  at her touch and turned to question her but found himself being pushed down into a nearby chair. 

Alistair drew his brows together in confusion. 

             “What…?” he began.

Bridget tossed a velvet pillow onto the thick rug that stretched out in front of them and slowly lowered herself to her knees. She batted her eyelashes as innocently as she could muster as she stared up at Alistair. 

             “Have you ever heard of an Antivan Kiss ?” She asked huskily. 

Alistair felt a blush creep into his face as he shook his head. 

             “N-No…” he replied, a little breathless. 

Bridget smirked. 

             “Mmm…well…I’m going to show you what that is, if you want it, of course.” She purred. 

Alistair suddenly couldn’t find his voice but nodded eagerly. Bridget grinned again and took him into her hands. Soft like the finest silk yet rock hard beneath her hand. She let her eyes flutter close as she leaned forward and released her tongue to taste him. Alistair sucked in a breath as he felt Bridget’s tongue slide across the tip of his manhood. He hadn’t even had a moment to recover and ask what she was doing before her entire mouth was on him.

             “Maker’s Breath !” Alistair exclaimed as he gripped the arm rests of the chair.

He looked down at Bridget and watched as her head bobbed slowly up and down his throbbing cock. The noises she made filled his ears like an obscene symphony. She sucked and she sucked hard . Bridget’s mouth was just as warm and inviting as her core. Her tongue was like magic entwining itself and swirling all over his member. Alistair lolled his head back and slowly rocked his hips towards Bridget. He felt her lips curve up into a smile against him, and when she began to massage him, Alistair nearly came then and there. But not yet, oh no not yet. He wanted to hold out if he could. Maker, he didn’t even know what Bridget was doing was possible.

             “Mmmm….Maker…Bridget!” Alistair breathed. 

Alistair moved his hands into Bridget’s hair and pulled it ever so gently. She moaned in response and sucked even harder, working her hand ever faster. Alistair felt a fine sheen of sweat erupt against his skin. He could feel his climax building up, that subtle, sweet pressure building down low on his belly.

He began to thrust a little faster, a little harder into Bridget’s mouth. He knew he should stop, he knew he should pull away before he finished but fuck she felt so good. Her mouth was so warm and so wet. Her hand gripped him with just enough tension to drive him mad. Alistair clenched his eyes shut as he bucked into her mouth. There was nothing stopping him now. Alistair dug his heels into the carpet and curled his toes as he felt the pressure the pleasure within him wind itself into a tight coil and then suddenly… finally…

              “Bridget… FUCK…AH!” 

Alistair’s entire body shook and trembled from the ferocity of his climax. He slumped back into the chair and panted as he watched Bridget raise her head from his twitching cock. It was covered in saliva and cum. Alistair lifted his gaze to Bridget and the sight of her alone nearly made him hard again. 

Her face was flushed a beautiful shade of red that stretched down her neck and expanded across the valley of her breasts. A small bit of his cum lingered in the corner of her mouth. Bridget licked it up quickly and wiped her mouth with her fingertips as she swallowed his essence and tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

Alistair sat, slack jawed and in utter amazement at the woman before him. His friend, his partner, his lover . Whatever she had just done to him, he was sure he could not survive it a second time…but was certainly eager to do it again. Bridget smiled at him and rested her head on his thigh. She caressed his other thigh gently and gripped his strong muscle. 

                “That is an Antivan Kiss,” she stated smugly, a little breathless. 

Alistair couldn’t say anything, he could only gaze in awe at the woman before him.

                “What did you think?” Bridget asked, after a moment. 

Alistair shook his head and blinked as she looked up at him. 

                “You’ll have to ask me later, I can’t form a coherent thought at the moment,” he laughed. 

Bridget giggled and moved to climb atop him. She straddled his waist and Alistair sighed as he caressed the side of her face. He could feel her heat just below his navel, but he knew their time was short. 

                “As soon as we’re done with Bhelen, we can come back, right?” Alistair asked eagerly. 

Bridget grinned and nodded. 

                “Of course. After all, it’s my turn next!”

Alistair’s eyes widened innocently. 

                “You…you mean…I can do that to you too?” He asked. 

Bridget blushed and nodded. 

                “Indeed…I’ll talk you through it, don’t worry,” she replied with a wink as she saw worry cloud her lover’s eyes. Alistair chuckled and rested his forehead against hers.

                “Well…I certainly hope Bhelen isn’t one for small talk, because I want to come back here and spend as much time as we can in each other’s arms.”

Bridget kissed Alistair softly and nodded. 

                “Then we better get started,” she replied.

After dressing in their finery, Bridget and Alistair met up with their companions and made their way to the great hall. A mouthwatering aroma filled the air as a feast of Bronto Tail and honey glazed Nug was waiting for them. Bridget and her friends stood behind their respective chairs and bowed graciously as Bhelen entered the room escorted by two heavily armored guards. 

Bridget glanced at him briefly as the future king  addressed her and the others. His straw colored hair and beard glowed in the candlelight, and his finery glinted a reflection of the flames. Despite his short stature, he carried an air of regality and a commanding presence that deserved respect. As Bhelen took his seat and gestured for the others to do so, servers scuttled towards the table and quickly began filling everyone’s plates with Orzammar’s finest delicacies. 

Bridget cut into the Bronto Tail and was amazed at how easily the meat fell off the bone. It was smothered in a rich mushroom gravy that tantalized her tastebuds. The mead in her goblet was rich and strong and complimented the Bronto Tail perfectly. 

                “It is an honor to finally meet with you, Prince Bhelen,” Bridget stated. 

Bhelen cast his eyes to her and nodded. 

                “Indeed. I believe we have a mutual interest. I can help you if you can help me, so to say,” he replied. 

Bridget nodded as she pulled apart a warm roll of bread and dipped it into her gravy. 

                “You seem like a man who prefers to go straight to the point, so I will be frank, if it pleases you?”

Bhelen raised an eyebrow and nodded as he took a long draw of ale. Bridget continued and chose her words carefully. 

                “I am here, as you know, on behalf of the Grey Wardens. I am in dire need of your forces to help us fight back the Darkspawn and end this Blight. I realize I have come to you at an inopportune time, but I, and the rest of Thedas, need your help.” 

Bhelen regarded Bridget momentarily and swept his eyes across his other guests. They were all on the edge of their seats waiting with bated breath for his answer. Bhelen returned his attention to Bridget and sighed. 

                “I will gladly give troops to help against the Blight, however, they are currently not mine to give,” he stated. 

Bridget drew her brows together. 

                “I don’t understand—“

                “I wouldn’t expect you to, lass. We do not adopt your ways here beneath the stone,” Bhelen snapped.

Bridget froze for a moment in shock at his tone, but swallowed her retort and bowed her head.

                “Forgive me, I am not familiar with your customs and I do not pretend to be.”

Bhelen softened and sighed. He ran a hand down his face and barked for more ale. As a server stepped forward and poured the dark liquid into the goblet, Bhelen shook his head. 

                “Just because I am a prince does not automatically secure my right to the throne. Our Assembly must vote on who the successor will be and since Harrowmont is challenging my claim, that is why the Assembly is in shambles,” he explained. 

                “But we’ve already proved that Harrowmont is cheating people, or trying to. We found those promissory notes amongst several other documents in Jarvia’s hideout,” Leliana noted. 

Bhelen nodded. 

                “Yes, and we can and will use that against him. There is, however, something else that I could use that would solidify my ascension to the throne without question.”

Morrigan frowned and leaned closer to Zevran.

                “I almost certainly guarantee this is going to be something dangerous, yet again. Do you notice this? How do we seem to constantly walk into shit everywhere we go?”

Zevran shrugged as he picked his teeth to remove remnants of the nug leg he had just eaten. 

                “Well, considering my line of work, I do that quite often,” he noted. 

Bridget listened intently to Bhelen explain how, if he had the voice of a paragon backing him up, the assembly would not have a choice but to make him king. The only issue was the only living paragon, Branka, was lost in the Deep Roads and had been for two years. 

Alistair was trying to listen to the conversation as best as he could, but he was also very distracted by how beautiful Bridget looked and how badly he wanted her. The rest of the conversation was lost to Alistair as he let his eyes wander and trail over Bridget and thanked the stars above for how lucky he was to have her by his side. 

She wore a cream colored dress with silver embroidery at the square neckline and the cuffs of her wrists. It was a simple gown, but suited her nicely in the way it accentuated her full breasts and wide hips. As he watched her continue to speak with Bhelen and agree to go into the Deep Roads to find Branka, he found himself already aroused and ready to get her back into her room as quickly as possible. 

Alistair took a long draw from his goblet as he bounced his knee impatiently beneath the table. Finally , Bhelen stood and announced his support for sending troops topside provided Bridget could find Branka within the Deep Roads. She agreed to this condition and the plan was set to venture to the Deep Roads in the morning. Everyone stood as Bhelen left the room, his armored men following behind them. 

                 “Traversing the Deep Roads will be no small task,” Wynne noted warily. 

Leliana drew her brows together in worry. 

                 “Indeed…is there a guide or someone who can show us the way? The Deep Roads are known to be a twisting cavern full of Darkspawn, amongst other things.” 

A server overheard the companions’ hushed tones and approached Bridget cautiously. 

                 “Seek out Oghren, he was Branka’s husband. He’s been trying to mount a rescue party for her the last two years but no one would listen to him. I’m sure he will help you,” she stated. 

Bridget nodded. 

                 “How can we contact him?” she asked. 

The server began to stack plates atop each other and looked over her shoulder at Bridget and the others. 

                 “I can send him a message, he’ll meet you outside of the entrance to the Deep Roads tomorrow,” she replied. 

Bridget nodded and thanked the server for her help. 

As she and her friends filed out of the great hall, Bridget turned and addressed them. 

                “We should probably get as much sleep as we can. I’m sure the Deep Roads will test us in more ways than one—"

                “We’re not the ones you should be preaching to about getting sleep , Warden. The rest of us will finally be able to rest for a change with our own rooms without having to listen to the animalistic noises coming from your tent!” Morrigan grumbled. 

Bridget and Alistair blushed furiously as Zevran, Leliana, and Wynne chuckled and murmured in agreement. As everyone went their separate ways, Alistair cast his gaze over to Bridget and shrugged. 

                “Well…she’s not wrong, I don’t plan to go to sleep anytime soon!” 

Bridget giggled and intended to respond, but her reply was swallowed by Alistair’s hot mouth enveloping hers. In an instant, she was up against the cool stone wall, hidden in the shadows of the hallway with her lover. 

Alistair drew his lips down her neck as he gripped at the back of her dress. 

                 “I can’t stop thinking about your mouth on my cock and how amazing it felt,” he groaned. 

Bridget bit her lip to stifle her moan as Alistair kneaded her breast and squeezed her mound beneath the fabric of her dress. He trailed searing kisses back to her ear and whispered, 

                 “I want to taste you.” 

Bridget shivered pleasantly, riveted by his boldness. She grabbed his hand and led him back to her room. The minute they shut the door and turned the lock, they were together like magnets, unwilling and unable to part. 

Alistair groaned as he pulled at the fastenings to Bridget’s dress. Once it was loose around her shoulders, he slid his hands down her arms and exposed her breasts to his hungry eyes. He pulled back for a moment and appreciated how her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took before he slid her dress down her hips until it pooled at her feet. Alistair smirked. 

                 “No small clothes? How scandalous,” he noted with a smile.

Bridget giggled and shrugged. 

                  “I figured it would be one less piece of clothing to worry about,” she replied. 

Alistair caressed the side of Bridget’s face and rested his forehead against hers. 

                  “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked softly. 

Bridget smiled and placed her hands atop his. 

                  “Nothing at all except being yourself,” she stated. 

Alistair kissed her softly before he pulled back and pulled his shirt over his head. 

                  “Lie back, love,” he commanded in a silky whisper. 

Bridget did as Alistair asked and watched as Alistair knelt before her, pushing her thighs apart and bearing her very soul to his darkened eyes. 

                  “What do I have to do?” He asked, his confidence slipping, but only slightly. 

Bridget smiled sweetly. 

                  “Remember where I showed you, the place that brings me the most pleasure?” She asked softly. 

Alistair nodded as he swept his gaze over her. 

                  “Put your mouth there and…I think you’ll know what to do.” 

Alistair gazed at the beautiful woman before him. His woman. Maker’s Breath, he never thought he would meet someone like Bridget, and yet here she was, naked and beneath him, bearing her soul. Alistair lowered his mouth to the flesh just below her belly and kissed her softly, releasing his tongue to taste her skin. 

Bridget released a breath as Alistair trailed his kisses lower, lapping and nipping at her sensitive skin, but not traversing to her center just yet. He gently nibbled at the skin covering her thighs, making Bridget moan and curl her toes in anticipation, but Alistair was determined to draw this out. 

He flicked his gaze at her as he placed his mouth just inches from where Bridget wanted it most and smirked to himself as he noticed how wet she already was. Alistair took a deep breath as he took in every aspect of her sweet, succulent scent before he dipped his head forward and tasted his love for the very first time. 

Bridget clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as she felt Alistair’s warm and wet tongue tease her folds. His movements were slow and tentative yet oh so pleasurable. Alistair gently placed his hand atop her and spread her further as he let his tongue explore deeper. 

Bridget arched her back and moaned as his tongue continued to languidly draw itself around her bud and along her folds. Andraste's tits was he good at this ! Deeper still he slid his tongue as he continued to kiss her there with such a tender touch, Bridget was nearly drunk off the feeling. 

Alistair pulled back briefly to take a breath and Bridget blushed at the glistening sheen that covered his mouth and chin. His face was as red as she’d ever seen it, and he looked at her shyly. 

                  “You…ah…you’re very sweet. I like it.” 

Bridget bit her lip as Alistair returned to her with a renewed passion. He pulled her hips closer to him and Bridget rested her thighs atop his broad shoulders as he continued to flick his tongue against her in the most deliciously pleasurable ways. 

Bridget gripped his hair in her hands and tugged gently as he pushed his tongue deep inside of her. She gasped and arched her back as she rocked her hips into his face as his fingertips dug into her thighs, holding her firmly in place. 

                  “Faster, Alistair… please ,” Bridget begged as he swiped his tongue over and over her aching bud. 

Alistair obliged by flicking and swiveling his tongue as quickly as he could, and delving it in and out of her core at a faster pace. Bridget closed her eyes tightly as she felt her climax coil within her. 

                  “Ahhh! Alistair!” She exclaimed in a breathless whisper. 

A galaxy of stars exploded behind her eyelids and Bridget’s thighs quivered around Alistair’s face. Her entire body trembled pleasurably with her release and Bridget bit her lip and opened her eyes to find Alistair grinning up at her, her essence and saliva smeared all over his face. Alistair wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave Bridget a bashful glance. 

                  “Was it…did I do alright?” He asked. 

Bridget fell back against the bed and chuckled as she placed a hand to her forehead.

                  “Alistair, you…you’re sure you’ve never done this before?” She asked. 

Alistair held up his hands and shook his head. 

                  “I swear, I didn’t even know that this was a thing until earlier,” he promised. 

Bridget grinned as she sat up and crawled towards the edge of the bed. She claimed Alistair’s mouth with hers in a soft kiss before she pulled back and said, 

                  “Well, don’t ever doubt yourself. Because you were very good. Now…let me take care of you.”

Bridget eyed the obvious bulge in his breeches hungrily. Alistair quickly pulled at the strings to his breeches and removed them and his smalls as quickly as he could. He climbed atop the bed with Bridget and laughed heartily as she pushed him into the mattress and settled herself over him. 

Whatever he was going to say next died in the back of his throat as Bridget kissed him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. Her plump lips were hot over his own. She sucked his bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled softly before swiping her tongue against his. 

Alistair groaned as he gripped her hips in his hands. He rolled his hips into her, could feel the heat emanating from her core, but Bridget didn’t budge. She was determined to draw out his pleasure just as he had done with her. 

Bridget drew her kisses over his jaw and down his neck and splayed them across his chest generously. She left bruising love bites against his skin from sucking and biting, which sent waves of pleasure throughout Alistair’s entire body. When she closed her mouth over his nipple and sucked Alistair groaned and slapped her on the ass. He felt Bridget smile against his skin and he sucked in a breath when she moved her lips to his other nipple. 

Bridget wasn’t tentative or shy in any of her actions. Alistair wasn’t a hard man to please, and she had quickly picked up on what he liked and didn’t like as much. There were times he preferred that their lovemaking was soft and slow but this…after not being able to do anything for three days, Bridget knew he didn’t want her to be soft with him tonight. 

Bridget lifted her head from his chest and acknowledged her handiwork as she counted the love bites she had left peppered against his skin. Alistair gripped her hips as she moved herself over him and slid herself onto his cock without warning. 

                  “Mmmmm,” Alistair groaned deeply as he dug his fingertips into her flesh so hard, he knew that he would leave a mark. 

Bridget rocked her hips slowly at first, she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of Alistair widening her core, hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. She released a shuddering breath as she placed her hands on his chest as she swiveled her hips slowly, meticulously, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure she could, milking every second, before they both climaxed again. 

A fine sweat had appeared on both of their bodies as they moved as one. Alistair sat up and held Bridget close to him as he kissed her deeply and kneaded her breasts. Bridget bit her lip as she rocked her hips faster, steadier. 

Alistair laid back against the mattress as Bridget leaned over him and interlaced her fingers with his. She rode him with uninhibited passion, the sound of their skin encountering each other filled the room and echoed off of the stone walls. Bridget’s breath quickened along with her pace as she could feel that familiar tingling sensation pool down low in her belly once again. 

Alistair watched as she repositioned herself over him and drew her nails down his chest. Her jaw became slack and her eyes fluttered closed. She called his name out as she rode him hard into the mattress, riding out her orgasm fiercely. As he felt her core tighten and tremble around his cock, Alistair met his end. In a burst of stars, his own body quaked beneath Bridget’s with a sudden jerk. He groaned loudly as he squeezed her ass as his hot seed expelled into her, draining him completely. 

It took several minutes before either of them could move or say anything. After their breathing returned to normal and the strength returned to their satisfied and spent limbs, Bridget rolled off of Alistair and smiled at him as she propped herself up on her arm. 

                   “I love you,” she whispered as she leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. 

Alistair grinned as he smoothed her hair away from her face and placed a sweet kiss to her slick brow. 

                   “I love you too. I realize I should say that every chance I get.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. 

                    “Why is that?”

                    “I will surely perish of a heart attack at a young age  if you ride me like that every day,” he chuckled

Bridget laughed and snuggled up close to him. Alistair held her tightly in his strong arms. They were quiet for a moment as their bodies slipped into a satiated state of rest. Eyelids grew heavy, but something prickled in the back of Alistair’s mind. 

                    “Bridget…?” He asked softly. 

                    “Hmm?” She responded sleepily. 

                    “I don’t know what the future will hold…I know we could die at any moment trying to stop the Blight but…have you given much thought to what will happen if we both survive?” He asked slowly. 

Bridget raised her eyebrows as she considered his question. 

                   “If we both survive, I would still want to be with you, Alistair. I don’t ever wish to part from you,” she answered truthfully. 

Alistair grinned and blushed. 

                   “So…would you want to…to marry me?”

Bridget lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. 

                  “What?” She asked in disbelief. 

Alistair immediately backpedaled. 

                  “I mean…wow I don’t know where that came from, I uh, I don’t think I meant to say that, I mean I know we haven’t known each other that long but…actually, forget I said anything. This conversation didn’t happen. Goodnight!”

Alistair closed his eyes tightly and wished that the mattress would swallow him whole. He felt his face burn brightly and his stomach twist itself into a large knot. What had possessed him to ask such a question? Was he just lost in the heady aftermath of sex that his brain had decided to stop working so his heart decided to take advantage?

                  “Yes,” Bridget whispered quietly. 

Alistair’s eyes flew open. He looked at Bridget and felt his heart melt as he gazed at the tender look on her face. 

                  “You…you would?” He asked nervously, excited and honored that she would even consider a life with him, provided they both lived. 

Bridget nodded. 

                   “I would,” she answered truthfully, elated at the fact of spending her life, if she could, with Alistair by her side. Even though there was much to consider, Bridget chose to focus on the present moment, and snuggled up to her lover. 

Alistair wrapped his arms around her and held her close, deciding to let the matter rest for now,  but felt a flutter in his chest and a hope for a future that Bridget shared with him. As she let sleep take her, she imagined a life without worry or fear with Alistair by her side surrounded by children they would, with any luck, one day share. 

                                                                                                                                                                                   xXx

The Deep Roads proved to be a worse experience than Bridget had originally anticipated. After meeting with Oghren and listening to his tale regarding Branka and her desire to locate the Anvil of the Void, Bridget had an inkling that she was located somewhere very deep within the sprawling labyrinth. 

Every horror one could think of was located within the Deep Roads. Between giant spiders, hoards upon hoards of darkspawn and ogres, thaig crawlers and skeletons, even spirits from long ago, by the time Bridget and her friends had made it to the Dead Trenches, she was very much ready to be done with this place and breathe fresh air topside once again. 

Bridget thought she held herself together fairly well whilst traversing through the never ending maze of the Deep Roads. That was, until she and the others encountered the ArchDemon at a distance. As large as it was wide, the ArchDemon was a formidable dragon that screeched loudly into the abyss, ordering the army of Darkspawn below it to march to the surface to pillage and conquer as much as they could. 

A cold sweat ran down Bridget’s back as the ArchDemon’s cry rang through her ears, stopping her in her tracks and making her double over in pain. She clasped her hands over her ears to block out the roar, but she could still feel it ringing within her blood as the Darkspawn blood she had consumed to become a Warden reacted to the call of its master. Alistair, too, had fallen to his knees as the mighty dragon roared its orders. When it finally flew away, the wardens were able to recover, but barely had any time before another hoard of Darkspawn attacked the group. 

After dispatching the large group of enemies, the companions took a moment to rest and regroup. Wynne placed her hands on either side of Bridget’s temples and whispered a spell to ease her mind before she did the same with Alistair. Zeus curled up next to Bridget and gazed up at her, worry apparent in his large brown eyes. Bridget scratched his ears and soothed her pet, even though she was still shaken up over the encounter herself. 

                        “Andraste’s tits, how are we supposed to kill that thing?” she breathed uneasily. 

Alistair cast a worried glance her way. He wished he could ease her worry, provide the answer that she sought, but Alistair was unsure of exactly how they would defeat the ArchDemon, himself. After the brief interlude, the companions continued on, fighting their way through the trenches and stumbling along through the winding corridors until, at last, Branka had been located. 

Along the way, Bridget had discovered that Branka had gone mad in her search for the Anvil, to the point of sacrificing members of her own house, her lover, Hespith, anyone that she could in order to seek and achieve her goal. Oghren was furious with her and tried to remind her of who she once was, but he was written off without a thought. 

Thus began Caridin’s Trials. Bridget’s body ached from swinging her sword and defending herself with her shield. She felt as if they had been fighting wave after wave of enemies for hours. She thanked the Maker that Morrigan and Wynne accompanied her into the Deep Roads as their magic proved more than useful against the golems within Caridin’s traps. 

Once Bridget and her friends successfully completed Caridin’s trials, they were met with Caridin himself. He explained how he created the Anvil of the Void and the curse he had suffered due to creation. He told another side of the tale, about how the Anvil was used to create golems from living creatures: other dwarves. Branka interrupted him and denied his claims, stated that she would take the Anvil by force, and brandished a control rod. All the golems in the room stood at attention and attacked on her command. 

Caridin pleaded with Bridget to aid him and destroy the control rod and then the Anvil itself. Bridget had to make a fast decision. Caridin was a paragon as well and could also provide his voice for Bhelen if Branka was unable to. Considering her options quickly, Bridget concluded that the Anvil was too dangerous in the hands of anyone, despite the power it possessed. She defended Caridin and attacked Branka, much to Orghren’s misery, yet, after the battle was won, he conceded that Branka had been in the wrong. 

Caridin agreed to craft one final item on the Anvil, a crown for the chosen king of Orzammar. He explained to Bridget that he did not wish his voice to be thrown into the lot, that the sole choice of successor rested upon her shoulders, but due to the honor Bridget had shown him, he knew that she would choose wisely. After Caridin forged the crown, Bridget held up her end of the bargain and destroyed the Anvil with a sledge hammer, breaking it into pieces. Cardin thanked her for providing him peace and stared down at the molten lava that bubbled far below the precipice where they stood. 

                         “ Atrast nal tunsha —May you always find your way in the dark, Warden. Thank you.”

Bridget bowed her head as Caridin jumped from the precipice to meet his fate below. After regrouping with her friends, they made the long journey back through the Deep Roads and returned to the Assembly where men from both Harrowmont and Bhelen’s houses were at each other’s throats. 

The Speaker quieted the men and women down as he announced Bridget’s return. She displayed the crown that Caridin crafted and Oghren backed her up by stating that Caridin had chosen the next successor. Bridget felt bad deceiving the Assembly by bending the truth just a little, but Oghren had convinced her that if they said anything other than this being Caridin’s will, the Assembly would continue to be deadlocked. When the Speaker asked who Caridin chose, Bridget stated with full confidence that he wished for Bhelen to succeed his father. 

The dwarves within the assembly bowed deeply toward him as Bhelen smiled to himself and descended the steps to reach the central dais. He bowed before the Speaker as he placed the crown upon his head and stood at his full height. Bhelen cast his eyes around the room and noted that everyone had bowed and sworn their fealty to him, even Harrowmont. 

                         “I cannot argue against a paragon’s wishes,” Harrowmont stated, noticing Bhelen’s quirked eyebrow at him 

Bhelen addressed the Assembly proudly, but immediately shifted the entire atmosphere within the room when he ordered Harrowmont to be thrown in prison as he would be executed for ever questioning Bhelen in the first place. Bridget opened her mouth to object, but Morrigan nudged her in the side. 

                         “Do you really want to prolong our stay here by voicing your morality on this issue?” 

Bridget, who was eager to finally look up into the sky once again, closed her mouth tightly and shook her head. 

                         “Good point,” she replied quietly to the mage. 

Once Harrowmont had been taken away, Bhelen turned his attention to Bridget and her friends and gave them a curt nod. 

                          “Our bargain is set. You helped me, and I will send my troops to you when you need them, you need only send word. If you will excuse me, I have many matters to attend to.” 

With that, he left and Bridget and her friends eagerly made their way back to the surface. Oghren escorted them to the entrance to the surface before he bid farewell, thanking Bridget for helping search for Branka, even though things had ended the way they had. 

                          “I’ll be seeing you when we fight those bastards and send ‘em back to the Trenches,” he stated. 

With a friendly wave, Oghren saw them off and Bridget took the largest breath of fresh air she had ever taken upon stepping out of Orzammar. She welcomed the biting cold chill of the Frostbacks and noticed that her friends looked more than happy to have returned to the fresh air as well. 

                          “Well, I guess that’s settled. Where to now?” Alistair asked. 

Bridget turned to her friends and drew her brows together. 

                          “No rest yet, I’m afraid. Since we’re here, we need to locate the village that Brother Genitivi mentioned in his notes. It’s time we search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes for Arl Eamon.”

Her friends glanced at each other and nodded as they felt a foreboding sense of what was to come. Witnessing the ArchDemon first hand had shaken all of them up and made the reality and danger of their mission much more tangible than before. The clock was ticking, the Darkspawn were marching. It would not be long before they would have to face them and the ArchDemon in a final battle that would determine the fate of not only Ferelden, but all of Thedas.

Chapter Text

The snow twinkled and shone like crushed diamonds beneath the brilliant sun. Plumes of air appeared and evaporated quickly as the companions huffed along the slippery, slopey mountain pass. Bridget grinned ruefully. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. How eager she had been to leave Orzammar behind and return to the surface after she had spent those days underground. How she had longed for fresh air and to feel the sun warm her face.  Now, however, after camping in blizzards and trudging through knee deep snow, Bridget longed to be back underground and out of the elements, if only for a moment.

Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest for joy when she could make out the gates of Haven on the horizon, like a fresh well of water unveiling itself to the dehydrated explorer.  Everyone picked up their pace and hoped that they could enjoy a hot meal by a roaring fire within the local tavern, to warm their bones that had been chilled for far too long.  Alas, sadly, that would not be the case. The smile fell from Bridget’s face as they approached the lone guard that stood at the entrance to the village. His mustache bristled impatiently as he looked at Bridget and her friends warily. 

“Greetings, Ser. I’m looking for a man, a brother of the Chantry. His name is Genitivi, have you—“

Before Bridget could finish her sentence, the guard cut her off sharply. 

“I’ve seen no such man. Haven does not receive many visitors, we are a quaint village tucked away in the mountains and we like to keep it that way. Father Eirik at the Chantry may know more about this man you seek, though I doubt it. People typically pass through Haven and nothing more. That is how we like it.”

“He’s certainly a charming fellow,” Zevran noted under his breath. 

Leliana adopted a puzzled expression. 

“Beg pardon Ser, but did you say “father” Eirik? Only women can be ordained as priests—“

“Our customs are different in Haven,” the guard snapped suddenly, “I do not expect a lowlander like you to understand!”

Leliana was taken aback by the man’s sudden outburst and pursed her lips together, but shot Bridget a concerned look. 

“I mean to trouble you no further, Ser. Is there a tavern we may rest in for a while? We have traveled far and wish to enjoy the warmth of a fire and a bed, if we may.”

The guard frowned.

“You may not , for there is no such place in Haven. You can replenish supplies at Holland’s shop and that is all. Get what you need and leave. You are strangers and are not welcome here.”

Bridget didn’t say anything in response, but pushed past the guard roughly as she led her friends into the grim village. 

“What hospitality, I think I’ll come back and visit once this is all over,” Alistair joked. 

Morrigan and Wynne shared a glance. They could feel a dark presence somewhere, though they could not discern where the aura originated from. 

“Best keep our guard up,” Wynne warned.

Zevran rubbed his gloved hands together and blew into them. 

“What kind of village doesn’t have a tavern? It’s a travesty!”

Bridget noted that the village was mostly empty. The only sounds she heard were the swaying, creaking trees that groaned in the wind and sang a lamenting song of the horrors they had seen throughout the years. 

“Let’s look around, but stay close. I don’t think it wise to separate.” 

The sun, which was shining so brilliantly in the sky before, fell behind a cloud that washed Haven in an eerie, gray hue. Fog that seemed to appear from nowhere clung to their ankles like ghosts clinging on to some semblance of life before passing into what lay beyond.  The companions cautiously tread through the center of town. It was not a bustling town square by any means. The stillness of it all sent a shiver down Bridget’s spine.

Eventually, Leliana discovered a small home whose door was not all the way closed.  When she called Bridget over to inspect it, a wary feeling washed over her, a premonition that what she would find inside would not be a welcoming sight. 

Bridget placed her palm against the door and pushed it open with a loud creak. Inside the home was dark, however, Bridget could smell the lingering smoke from candles recently snuffed out as well as something more sinister; the coppery smell of blood.  Morrigan whispered a spell as the companions filed in, leaving Wynne and Zeus outside to keep a lookout. A small flame erupted in the palm of Morrigan’s hand that illuminated the small living area.

Two chairs had been knocked over by the small dining table, whoever had been here had certainly left in a hurry.  It took only moments before everyone found the source of the strong smell. Painted on the nearby wall, a symbol of a dragon-like creature had been drawn in blood. Bridget gasped and put her hand over her mouth as she noticed an altar with a bloody knife sitting atop it. 

“This looks…bad. Culty even.” Alistair murmured. 

Morrigan stepped towards the eerie mural and touched the blood with the tips of her fingers. She rubbed her fingertips together. 

“Still warm, this was freshly done. My guess is this is human blood, not animal.”

Alistair grimaced and scrunched his nose.

“Eugh I can’t believe you just…touched it like that.” He stated. 

Morrigan cut her eyes at him and frowned. 

“Funny, I could say the same about Bridget touching you but, as you can see, I am silent on that matter.”

Alistair blushed furiously and opened his mouth to respond, but closed it quickly and grumbled something inaudible under his breath. Zevran snickered and removed a small journal from his pack. He made a quick tally mark under Morrigan’s name. 

“What is that for?” Leliana whispered.

Zevran flashed her a mischievous grin and chuckled softly. 

“I’m keeping tabs between the two of them who has the best quips! So far, Morrigan is winning!”

Leliana hid her giggle behind her hand as she playfully hit Zevran in the arm. Their conversation was lost on Bridget as she continued to study the ominous painting. She noticed in the corner a sigil with the letters D.O.A. inscribed in blood. 

“Let’s check out the shop the guard mentioned. Something is amiss, that is for certain.”

She led the others out of the house quickly and quietly. Upon returning outside, the companions noticed a young boy, perhaps twelve years in age, playing with a hoop stick. The wind carried his voice as he sang a song.

“ Come, come bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you’ve been. Were you up, were you down?

Chasing rabbits ‘round the town? Come, come, bonny Lynne; tell us, tell us where you’ve been.

Come, come, bonny Lynne; we’ve a bed to put you in. Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within. A mossy stone, a finger bone. No one knows but Lynne alone. Dear, dear bonny Lynne sleeps the peaceful crib within”. 

The companions shared a wary glance. Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Well… that wasn’t creepy at all,” he stated. 

As the companions passed the child, he stared up at them with a blank expression. Bridget noticed that in his free hand he was holding something. She squinted her eyes to try and get a better look and her blood ran cold when she did so. 

It was a human finger bone. 

The child locked his gaze with Bridget’s and noticed her interest in the bone.

“I found it by the mountain pass. It’s my secret.”

With that, he turned away and began to play with his hoop stick once more, still singing the eerie song from before. 

“I really don’t like this place. I sense something dark within this village, but I can’t place what it is,” Wynne whispered. 

As the companions found their way to Holland’s shop, they entered one by one, except for Zevran who suggested he remain outside and poke around a little more.  While Bridget and the others made conversation with a suspiciously jumpy Holland, Zevran looked deftly around the outside of the shop, searching for any clues that may lead them to Genitivi’s whereabouts. 

Zevran walked around to the back of the shop and furrowed his brow as he noticed a barrel that had several swords of different sizes sticking out of the top of it. These were not weapons of a simple make, but good, sturdy, ornate blades that a nobleman or a knight would carry.  He turned to the back of the shop and noticed a window. Zevran clamored onto the wooden boxes outside and rubbed his hand over the window to attempt to see in. 

He squinted his eyes as he tried to make out what was in the room. He mumbled a curse under his breath as he couldn’t see. Quickly, he removed his lockpicking tools and, with expert hands, made quick work of it. With the lock broken, Zevran lifted the window and slipped into the back of the shop. He landed on his feet like a cat and scanned the room with his sharp eyes. 

In the corner, there was a tarp spread over something lumpy…and blood had soaked through the canvas. With careful trepidation, Zevran slowly made his way to the tarp. He grabbed it in his hand and removed it quickly. Zevran took a step back and grimaced. 

He was no stranger to death, more like a very good friend as delivering untimely demise was his specialty. This however, was cruel. The body was naked and flayed. The same dragon symbol as before was painted on the corpse’s forehead in blood. The man had been here for a while, his skin was gruesome and the smell was nauseating.  Zevran looked to his side and noted the shield that lay there. Even though it was covered in dark, dry blood, he could make out the Redcliffe insignia carved into it. 

He carefully walked closer to the entrance of the storage area. He could hear his friends and the flustered shopkeep on the other side. Zevran brought his hands to his lips and made a bird’s call, their signal for trouble. 

Upon hearing Zevran’s call, Bridget immediately turned her attention to the closed door to the back of the shop. She moved towards the door before Holland finally broke and screamed at her to get away. 

“Why? What are you hiding?” She demanded. 

Holland’s brow glistened with nervous sweat as he leapt over his counter with a dagger in hand. Morrigan laughed as she snapped her fingers and muttered a brief incantation. A moment later, a swarm of insects appeared out of the tip of her staff and flew straight towards Holland! 

As his screams rang through their ears and Alistair looked like he would be sick, Zevran opened the door and waved them all over. Once the companions were piled into the storage room and saw the horrific sight before them, Bridget sighed. 

“We know what happened to Eamon’s knights, at least. I don’t understand this symbol, what do you think it means?”

“Culty, definitely culty,” Alistair stated. 

The others nodded in agreement. 

“The symbol certainly is a dragon. Perhaps they worship dragons? It’s not unheard of, they were the old gods, after all,” Morrigan offered. 

Leliana shivered.

“I don’t like that, it’s blasphemous.”

Bridget frowned.

“We certainly won’t figure anything out by staying here. Let’s head to the Chantry. That guard mentioned Father Eirik. I think we should have a few words with him, if he’s willing to talk, that is.”

With that, Bridget led the others out of the shop, and found their way to the Chantry. It wasn’t difficult to find as it was the largest building within the town. Normally, Chantries would instill a feeling of hope and joy within the souls of the weary, however, as Bridget and her friends approached the large building, a sense of dread and wariness swept over them.  As they drew closer to the Chantry, Bridget noticed two guards stationed outside the doors. She motioned for her friends to crouch down as they snuck around to the back of the building. They kept to the shadows as Bridget quickly tried to form a plan. 

“We need to get in there, but I don’t want to storm through the front doors. I’m not sure if these people are armed or not, and I do not wish to slay innocents,” Bridget began. 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. 

“Not unless they attack first, Warden,” she stated. 

Bridget contemplated her retort. 

“That is…true. However, we don’t know if Genitivi is in there. I don’t want them to use him as some kind of collateral if they have him hostage. We need eyes on the inside.” 

Zevran and Leliana grinned. 

“Leave it to us, my dear. We’ll scale the building and see if we can’t peek in.”

Leliana nodded. 

“Indeed. All Chantries have a slight opening in their roofs to allow the sunlight to shine in when it is at its peak during the day so that it may wash the statue of Andraste in its light. We can easily manipulate that to see what exactly is going on inside.” 

Bridget nodded. 

“Excellent. We will wait here. Call for us if you run into any trouble.” 

Zevran and Leliana nodded and began to climb the footholds towards the top of the Chantry. They were light on their feet and careful not to move too quickly to alert anyone within the building. Once at the top, he crouched down to peer into the opening Leliana had mentioned while she kept a lookout. 

Zevran peered down into the dusty Chantry below and sucked in a breath. There was a man laying on a stone slab. He was gagged at the mouth and he was strapped to the slab with his hands and feet shackled in chains so that he had no hope to escape. The man looked desperately to his left where another man, Father Eirik, Zevran presumed, was addressing the congregation within. 

The bound man turned his head and looked up and made eye contact with Zevran. Sweat rolled down his face as he began to squirm and tried to call out for help. Zevran cursed and pulled away, knowing that their cover was now blown. Zevran stood and turned sharply to Leliana. 

“We need to go, now!” he exclaimed. 

Zevran cupped his hands to his mouth to alert the others as he and Leliana made their escape. Leliana’s boot snagged something atop the roof and she fell through a rotted piece of wood, nearly falling through into the Chantry below! Zevran grabbed her arms so she would not fall down and pulled her up, though now certainly, everyone knew they were here. 

Back below, Bridget and her friends rushed into the Chantry to find the villagers and Father Eirik looking upon them with disdain. The man on the slab looked around anxiously as he cried out for help before he was silenced with a hard slap from Eirik. As Bridget and her friends approached the altar, Father Eirik looked down upon them. 

“I heard we had a stranger wandering about the village. I trust you have enjoyed your time in Haven so far?”

Bridget gave the man an incredulous look. 

“How can you stand there and speak to me as if you think I don’t see the man shackled to the slab behind you?” she asked. 

Eirik frowned and addressed his congregation once more.

“This, my brothers and sisters, is what happens when you let an outsider into the village. They have no respect for our privacy or practices,” he explained. 

Bridget raised her eyebrows. 

“Your ‘practices’ being murdering innocent knights from Redcliffe? I saw the body, and the weapons! Do you deny it?”

Ignoring Bridget’s accusation as if he had not heard her, Father Eirik replied,

“You do not understand our ways! You would bring war upon Haven in your ignorance!”

Bridget narrowed her eyes as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. 

“And you haven’t? Killing innocent knights from a sister village sounds like an act of war to me!”

Eirick scoffed. 

“We do not owe you any explanation for our actions, lowlander! We have a sacred duty–failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven in due time.”

Eirik quickly nodded his head and a skirmish commenced. The villagers were indeed armed, and put up a fairly decent fight. Eirik revealed himself to be an apostate mage as he withdrew his staff and began to conjure malicious magic to harm Bridget and the others. He and Morrigan went toe to toe with Wynne providing cover. 

Alistair flipped over a pew to take cover from several arrows as Zevran threw his throwing knives to dispatch the archers as quickly as he could. Zeus made sure to stay by his mistress’s side as he shredded her felled opponents to insure that they would not get back up again. 

Leliana made her way towards the man on the slab and picked the lock to the shackles that had him bound. Wynne casted a protective spell over them so that they would not be harmed as Leliana pulled him away to safety. 

At long last the battle was over, the villagers and Eirik lay dead, their souls most likely in utter peril from the blasphemy that they practiced. Morrigan noted a coin with a dragon’s head inscribed into it hanging from a chain around Eirik’s neck. She removed it and placed it in her pack, noting that it may be of use later. Bridget made her way over to Leliana and the man and knelt by him as Wynne placed her hands to his legs and healed him. 

“Brother Genitivi?” Bridget asked hopefully. 

The man looked at her with tired eyes and nodded. Leliana offered him water from her wineskin and he drank as if he had been denied the drink for many days. Bridget gave him a few moments to recoup. 

“Thank you, truly. I owe you my life,” Genitivi stated in a raspy voice. 

Bridget nodded. 

“Of course. You should rest, how long have you been here?” she asked. 

Genitivi furrowed his brow. 

“Weeks, probably a fortnight or so by now. I’m not sure. I’ve barely had any food or water…gave me enough to keep me alive–but barely. But I cannot rest, I’m so close to finding the Urn!”

Bridget and her friends looked at each other hopefully. Genitivi noticed. 

“I see–you seek it out as well?”

“Only a pinch of the Ashes, for Arl Eamon. He’s very ill.” Alistair stated. 

Genitivi nodded and winced as Wynne began to set his leg. 

“It is said that the Ashes have remarkable healing powers, this is true. I can accompany you up the mountain, though I do not know what lies beyond once we reach the temple.” 

Wynne frowned. 

“You shouldn’t put any weight on your leg, we can assist you up the mountain,” she stated. 

Genitivi smiled at her. 

“Very well, thank you for your kindness, dear lady.” 

After rummaging around, Bridget discovered a cloak for Genitivi to wear to protect him from the whipping winds outside. Alistair and Zevran assisted Genitivi by hoisting his arms over their shoulders to act as crutches of a sort. Soon enough, the companions trudged their way up the mountain path. Bridget noted several footprints along the way and kept her guard up–there were bound to be more villagers in and along the temple. 

After an hour, the group finally stood at the entrance to the temple. Gentivi sighed and cursed under his breath as Alistair and Zevran helped him to the intricate gate. 

“Blast! I forgot! Eirik has a special key he uses to gain access to the temple! We’ll have to go back and retrieve it, there’s no other way–”

Morrigan stepped forward. 

“Fear not, I believe this may be the key?” she asked as she held out the dragon coin from earlier. 

Genitivi sighed in relief. 

“Yes, thank you! Let me see, I believe he placed it like so and turned clockwise…”

After a moment of fiddling with the key, Genitivi was able to unlock the gate and Bridget and her friends took him into the temple. Once inside, Morrigan and Leliana found some old wood to make a fire. Alistair and Zevran gently set Genitivi down by the fire and Leliana once again offered him her wineskin. 

Genitivi took it gratefully and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Bridget could tell he was still in a lot of pain. Genitivi grimaced as he shifted his weight and sighed. 

“I fear I will not be able to go further than here,” he whispered softly. 

Bridget warmed her hands by the fire as Alistair offered Genitivi some bread and cheese from his pack. 

“What must I do to find the Urn?” Bridget asked. 

Genitivi looked at her with glassy eyes and released a breath as he took a bite of the bread. After he swallowed, he replied.

“It will not be easy. There are bound to be trials and tribulations. One must prove worthy to reach the Urn, after all. From my time here all I know is that when you enter the next room, climb the stairs and take a right. After that, I’m afraid I do not know.” 

Bridget chewed on a piece of dry meat as the others sat for a moment to regroup as well. 

“What are they doing here, Brother?” she asked softly, fearful of the answer. 

Genitivi stared into the fire and watched the flames lick and flicker within the air. He was quiet for a moment before he continued. 

“I have been with the Chantry all my life, and I believe in the Maker with all my heart. However…there are some things, some evils that even the Chant can not fully explain. When I arrived in Haven, I received the same hospitality and warm welcome you did, but after I mentioned my search for the Urn, the already unfriendly atmosphere grew incredibly hostile.” 

Genitivi ran a hand down his face before he continued. 

“From what I was able to gather from listening to the villagers and Eirik in my beleaguered state, they are devout Andrastians…but not in the way that I and I assume you are, my lady. No, there is something much more sinister at play here, of that I am sure of. They are concealing something within this temple other than the Ashes. I know they intended to use me as some kind of sacrifice today, had you not shown up.. But for who or rather what , I can not say.” 

Alistair shared a withered glance with Bridget. 

“It’s a cult, I’m telling you!” he whispered. 

Bridget frowned at his insistence, because she felt that Alistair was probably right. After taking another moment to enjoy the fire, she stood and addressed her friends. 

“It’s time we pressed on. Wynne, I’m leaving you and Zeus here to look out for Genitivi. I don’t want him to be left alone in case more villagers show up.” 

Wynne nodded and Zeus barked. The mabari hound trotted over to Genitivi and sat by his side, his keen eyes already on watch. Wynne gave Bridget a few extra health poultices. 

“Be careful, milady. I have immense dread for what lies within this temple,” she stated. 

Bridget thanked her for the extra poultices and placed them within her pack. The others bid their farewells to Wynne, Genitivi, and Zeus before they followed Bridget into the next room. 

Sunlight filtered in through the large, open spaces where windows once were and illuminated the dust, cobwebs, and snow that sprinkled the floors and clung in the air. Bridget led her friends through the forgotten room, up the stairs, and to the right as Genitivi had instructed. 

If she thought the Deep Roads were a winding, unforgiving maze, the temple proved to be just as confusing and difficult. Several times Bridget had lost her way and only realized they must have finally been back on the right track when a few villagers attacked them. After making quick work of the enemies, Bridget continued to lead her friends down the snow swept hallways. 

Morrigan provided light by conjuring a small orb of fire as the deeper they progressed into the temple, the darker it became. Soon enough, after dispatching a few more ‘cultists’ as Alistair was intent on calling them, Bridget noticed that the ruins became more cavelike. After turning down another passageway, the companions entered an area with several egg-like sculptures that were perched across the room. 

Upon closer inspection, however, they realized that these weren’t just sculptures of eggs, but they were actual eggs. Bridget put her hand over her mouth as she put two and two together. 

“Maker preserve us, these are dragon eggs !” she exclaimed. 

Zevran looked warily at her. 

“Are you sure? How do we know for certain? Perhaps they are the eggs of a rather large…bird?” he offered. 

Morrigan shook her head. 

“The Griffons have been extinct longer than all of us have been living combined. No…I believe Bridget is right. These are dragon eggs.” 

Alistair rubbed his chin. 

“It makes sense, you know. The altar with the dragon symbol in blood, the knight from Redcliffe with the same symbol on his forehead, the dragon head inscribed on the coin...told you all this was a cult!” 

Bridget pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Leliana drew her brows together. 

“Then that means…there is a fully grown high dragon nearby?” She asked fearfully. 

Morrigan shrugged.

“Unless they are dealing in some sort of illegal trade, but I fear that is too optimistic a thought. There are too many eggs.” 

Bridget released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and sighed. 

“How large do high dragons get?” she asked. 

Everyone turned to look at Morrigan who scoffed. 

“I don’t have all the answers, I’m not a dragonologist! However, I would say if it’s a female dragon–and it most likely is, I would expect her to be very large indeed.” 

Alistair groaned as the others looked around at each other worriedly. 

“Can we even take on a dragon of that size? There’s only five of us!” he exclaimed. 

Bridget swallowed nervously and shook her head. 

“Let’s worry about that when and if we have to. For now, let’s press on,” she suggested. 

After a few more winding passageways and several other cultist ambushes later, Bridget and her friends eventually stumbled into a large room with several armored men inside. The leader of the group, Bridget assumed, pushed his way to the front and glowered at her and her friends. 

“Stop! You will go no further!” the mysterious man shouted. 

Bridget eyed his armor and recognized the same dragon symbol that she had seen throughout the village. Her guard was up and she stuck her chin out in defiance. 

“And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

The man narrowed his eyes on her. 

“I am Father Kolgrim–and you will abide by my orders. You have defiled our sacred temple! You have spilled the blood of the faithful and have slaughtered our young!” he shouted. 

“We haven’t laid a hand on a single child,” Leliana exclaimed. 

Zevran cleared his throat. 

“I believe he was referring to the dragonlings, dearest,” he replied. 

“ Culty ,” Alistair chimed in with a soft, sing-song voice. 

“You will tell me at once why you have done all of this, intruder! Why have you come here?” Kolgrim demanded. 

Morrigan groaned. 

“More talking? He’s clearly mad, why waste time when we can just kill them all now?”

Bridget ignored her and stared up at Kolgrim. 

“I have come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” she stated calmly. 

Kolgrim raised his eyebrows. 

“Really? You did all of this for an ancient relic?” he asked incredulously. 

Bridget crossed her arms in defense. Kolgrim continued. 

“Know this, stranger…the prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay her now! What hope do you have?”

Leliana shook her head. 

“You are blasphemous!” she exclaimed. 

Bridget cut her eyes at Kolgrim, fearful that the cult, truly believing that Andraste had returned, had taken her Ashes elsewhere, or worse, destroyed them.

“What has become of the Ashes?” she asked directly.

Kolgrim eyed her suspiciously. 

“They are still within this temple, but why do we need mere ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all of her glory?” 

Bridget nodded. 

“Very well, if you have no use for the Ashes, why not give me the urn?” she asked. 

Kolgrim frowned at her and contemplated her request for a moment before he twisted it to fit his own desires. 

“Hmm…perhaps there is a way for you to make up for your desecration of our home and temple.”

Morrigan sighed.

“Here we go…” she mumbled. 

Bridget shook her head impatiently. 

“I never said I wanted to make up for anything. I don’t regret any desecration I have caused. I just need the Ashes to cure a sick man, that is all.” 

Kolgrim grinned ruefully. 

“And all you need is a pinch for that, my dear.”

Bridget took a breath and let it out slowly. She knew Kolgrim was trying to play her, however, if she could possibly avoid a fight knowing that she and her friends would need all their strength if they ran into the dragon, she would. 

“Why do you suddenly want to cooperate with me?” she asked. 

Kolgrim shrugged. 

“It may be because I believe in second chances. Perhaps through Andraste’s mercy, Her greatest enemy will become her greatest champion.” 

“Get to the point,” Bridget stated impatiently. 

Kolgrim’s smile slightly dropped from his face, but he continued. 

“The Ashes you seek reside at the top of the mountain, but an immortal guardian who refuses to accept that Andraste has returned will stand in your way. The Ashes prevent holy Andraste from fully realizing her new form. Since they are a fragment of her past incarnation, she cannot move on as long as they exist.”

Leliana cast Bridget a worried glance. Bridget shook her head slightly and continued to play Kolgrim’s game. 

“So what would you have me do? Throw them out of a window?” 

Kolgrim gasped and shook his head. 

“I speak not of destruction! All they would need is a drop of Her blood. Blood carries power, strength, knowledge. Through it, all the power that is held in the Ashes will be returned to our Lady”.

Bridget narrowed her eyes. 

“Why have you not done this, then? Seems like a simple enough task.” 

“The Guardian, of course. He knows of us and he draws power from the Ashes themselves! You, however, are a stranger to him, he would not know your true purpose,” Kolgrim explained. 

Alistair shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

“This seems shifty, and I’m pretty sure that Guardian would not be so easily fooled.”

Ignoring Alistair’s remarks, Kolgrim continued. 

“He will assume you are a pilgrim coming to honor Andraste, not realizing you have accepted her new form. I will give you a vial of Her blood. Once you reach the Ashes, all you have to do is pour it in. The spell will be undone and Andraste will arise in all Her glory!”

Leliana shot Bridget another worried look. Bridget shook her head again and looked at Kolgrim. 

“No. I will not destroy the most holy relic in all of Thedas. You and your disciples are mad! We saw the mutilated body in the village, we know you intended to use Brother Genitivi as some kind of sacrifice! Your blasphemous cult ends here, now!”

Kolgrim sneered and drew his blade as his followers behind him did the same. 

“To arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us mercy!” 

xXx

After the rough skirmish, Bridget and the others recouped for a moment and began to loot the bodies. Morrigan sat near a fire she made and warmed her hands, Leliana was working on retrieving any arrows she could, Bridget studied an intricate horn she found on Kolgrim’s corpse, and Alistair helped Zevran check for any gold that may have been left behind. 

“Ugh, another one without a single coin in their pockets!” Zevran huffed. 

Morrigan frowned at him. 

“You won’t find anything on them, elf. They most likely offered everything they had to the dragon. It’s probably sitting in her horde, right now.” 

Alistair sighed uneasily. 

“You don’t really think there’s a high dragon nearby, do you? I mean wouldn’t we have found some kind of evidence?”

Morrigan shot him a look. 

“The unhatched dragon eggs and the dragonlings and wyverns that we’ve encountered throughout this entire forsaken temple isn’t enough for you?” she quipped. 

Alistair shrugged. 

“I’m just saying, what if it’s not actually here but somewhere else?”

As if to contradict him, a loud roar could be heard in the distance. It floated down the mountain path and filled the cave ominously. Alistair shut his mouth closed and drew his shoulders together. Morrigan snickered. 

“I believe your question has been answered,” she replied. 

The companions took a moment to sit around Morrigan’s fire. Bridget showed them the horn she had found and shared a grim look with her friends. 

“No doubt that is what Kolgrim used to call the dragon,” she stated. 

Zevran wiped the blood from his blades and raised his eyebrows. 

“So…they really believed Andraste returned as a dragon? And I imagine we will be taking it on next? Should we not save our own hides and just sneak past it instead?”

Leliana shook her head. 

“No, Zevran! Think of all the hope this temple could bring to the people of Ferelden if they could lay their eyes upon Andraste’s Ashes?” 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. 

“Your righteousness really nauseates me,” she said under her breath. 

Alistair cast Leliana a pointed look.

“Yeah, and what happens when everyone wants a pinch of them, or wants to hoard the thing all to themselves?” Alistair asked. 

Bridget chimed in.

“I’m sure the guardian Kolgrim mentioned would have something to say about that. It would not allow that to happen.” 

They grew quiet a moment, the only sounds heard were the whipping winds from the passage nearby. They all looked at each other uneasily before Zevran clapped his hands on his thighs and stood. 

“Well, it’s been lovely knowing you all, truly. At least we will die together, most likely very quickly and hopefully it will be painless. Just a sudden stomp, or being burnt to a crisp.”

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Alistair asked as he stood with the others and stamped out the fire. 

Zevran shrugged. 

“I am only being realistic!” he exclaimed. 

Bridget chuckled, albeit a little nervously. She had no idea what they were about to walk into, exactly how tough this fight would be, but knew in her heart of hearts this dragon must be slayed. Or else another cult could easily come in and begin to worship it, just as the disciples had. 

“Have faith, Zevran. We made it through the Deep Roads and all those hoards of Darkspawn. What’s a dragon compared to all that, hmm?” she offered. 

“Mmm, yes, well, if I get knocked off the mountain and fall to my death, I’ll be sure to return and haunt you,” he replied. 

Bridget ignored his remark and took a breath as she led her friends up through the mountain pass and to the top of the mountain. The wind whipped terribly, knocking their hoods back and causing them all to huddle together against the freezing cold elements. 

As they began to emerge from the cavern, they heard another guttural roar. Bridget and her friends took cover nearby as they heard great wings fly overhead. Bridget dared a glance from behind the stone that concealed her. Her eyes widened frightfully as the High Dragon flew overhead.

The dragon was massive . Her color was gorgeous, a purple scale that tinted blue in the sunlight. She was magnificent, and Bridget found herself solemnly thinking what a pity it would be to kill such a wonderful creature, but she would do more harm than good. Dragons were very territorial, if she ever thought to venture out and fly towards Redcliffe, for instance, the village wouldn’t stand a chance. It just wasn’t equipped to take down a creature of her magnitude. 

So what in all of Thedas made Bridget believe that she and her friends stood a chance? The dragon circled ahead one more time before it landed on its perch and settled there. Bridget glanced at her friends, they all looked as worried as she felt, which was comforting, in a way. Bridget looked down at the horn gripped in her hands and back at the others.

“Are we ready for this?” she asked. 

“Heh, ready as we’ll ever be to take on a massive High Dragon,” Alistair chuckled nervously. 

Bridget slowly crept out from behind her hiding place as the others followed her. She carefully moved closer towards the center of the mountain top and the dragon’s perch. When she figured she was close enough for the dragon to hear the horn, Bridget licked her lips, placed it to her mouth, and blew. 

The horn made a powerful, bellowing sound that alerted the dragon right away. Bridget guessed Kolgrim used this whenever he brought food and sacrifices to the dragon. What Bridget hadn’t thought of, however, was exactly how angry the dragon would be to see that it wasn’t Kolgrim on the other end of the horn. When she landed in front of the companions with a hefty woosh of her wings and gazed down at them all, she reared her head back and roared so loudly, Zevran had to clamp his hands over his ears. 

“Here we go!” Morrigan shouted. 

The companions scattered about so that the dragon would have to focus her attention in multiple areas at once. Morrigan tapped into her mana and conjured a lightning storm, attempting to shock the dragon enough to where it would be momentarily immobilized. As she did this, she enchanted Leliana’s arrows so that they would erupt in flame. Leliana rapidly fired as many arrows as she could while Zevran weaved in and out of the dragon’s legs, slicing at what skin he could to try to get it to go weak on one side. 

Bridget and Alistair took opposite ends. Alistair worked as a distraction so Bridget could help Zevran, however, she focused her attention on weakening only one leg so that it would fall forward. The dragon roared and reared it’s leg up before smashing it back down on the ground, the vibration of it threw Zevran and Bridget off of their feet. 

The dragon turned sharply and whipped her tail, which sent Alistair flying backwards until he landed, thankfully, in a pile of snow. Leliana ran over to cover him as he got up and shook the snow from his hair. Morrigan changed tactics and was now launching fireballs at the dragon.

“Die, you beast!” she shrieked. 

The dragon roared again, as a challenge and swooped its tail once more. Alistair and Leliana dived out of the way as Bridget and Zevran made it back under the dragon’s belly to attack her ankles again. 

“We’ve got to do something about that blasted tail!” Zevran exclaimed. 

Bridget sliced a gash at the dragon’s calf and smiled as she heard it shriek in pain. 

“Such as? How do you pin something like that down?”

Zevran thought for a moment as he jumped over some debris that had fallen with the last tail attack. An idea struck him instantly and he grinned. 

“I have a theory, can you handle this on your own for a moment?” 

Bridget trusted Zevran with her life, and so she nodded confidently. 

“Of course, if it gets to be too much, I’ll join Alistair and Leliana!”

Zevran clapped his friend on her shoulder and rolled out from under the dragon. He sprinted nearby towards a large column and climbed atop some more debris. Zevran squinted against the sunlight, he was nearly blinded from it reflecting off of the snow. 

“Morrigan! See if you can lure her this way! I have a plan!” he exclaimed. 

Morrigan nodded and signaled to Zevran that she had heard him. As she worked on trying to back the dragon up closer to where Zevran was, he quickly slung his pack off of his shoulder and began to hurriedly stuff herbs and powder into a makeshift ball. He’d only done this once before, in a narrow escape after one of his first assassinations, and many of his fellow crows had said he got lucky. Hopefully, it wasn’t just a one time stroke of luck. Zevran quickly palmed the ball in his hand and lit a match to it. He placed it at the base of the column and jumped down, expertly landing on his feet and running away. 

“Move! I placed an explosive!” Zevran exclaimed. 

“You what?” Everyone shouted. 

Seconds later, the column exploded and toppled over. It didn't pin the entire dragon down, but it did trap her tail beneath the huge stone. The dragon roared in pain and breathed fire towards the companions in an attempt to burn them all. 

“Nice work, Zev!” Bridget yelled. 

Taking her chance, Bridget ran for the dragon at full force. Morrigan puffed as she could feel her mana draining. Sweat rolled down the side of her face. Alistair glanced at Bridget and saw Zevran running to catch up with her, so he ran to Morrigan with a lyrium potion. She nodded her thanks and downed the potion quickly, feeling her magic hum within her veins. 

Bridget climbed over the collapsed column and began to work her way towards the dragon’s tail. The dragon was continuing to try and free itself. It roared and snapped at her friends beneath her as she began to carefully crawl across its back. 

The dragon could feel something crawling up its back and twisted it’s neck around to see Bridget scaling closer and closer. She roared and spat fire again. Bridget ducked and covered her head. The flames just missed her as the angle of the dragon’s neck wasn’t correct. 

As Bridget tried to stand back up, the dragon stretched out its wings and buried itself deep in the ground before it pushed up with all of its weight, freeing its tail and beginning to ascend into the air. 

Bridget gripped the dragon’s bumps and small horns along its back as she held on for her life as the dragon continued to ascend into the sky. 

“Shit, shit, SHIT!” Bridget screamed. 

Below, her friends were frantically trying to get the dragon to come down without hurting Bridget. Morrigan had a hard time with her aim, every time she tried to hit the dragon with a bolt of lightning, it would turn last minute and she would stop herself so she wouldn’t hit Bridget by accident. 

“Oh fuck, what are we going to do?” Alistair asked exasperatedly. 

Morrigan glanced around the area. The dragon was hurt, so it was moving slowly. She quickly studied her surroundings and grabbed Leliana by the arm. 

“Get on my back and hold on, we’re going to scale the wall and jump on the dragon’s back!”

Leliana nodded. Morrigan transformed into a giant spider and Leliana hopped on her back. She held on tightly as Morrigan scuttled towards the wall where the dragon’s perch was located. She quickly scaled the wall whilst dodging blasts of fire from the dragon. Zevran and Alistair felt helpless below, they had no ranged weapons they could use to distract the dragon. Bridget was trying to inch closer to the dragon’s head, but every swoop the dragon made caused her to nearly lose her grip and she would have to stop and readjust her hold. 

At last, Morrigan made it to the top of the perch. Leliana jumped off her back and narrowed her eyes as she positioned her arrow in her bow. She held her breath for a moment and concentrated, then took her shot, effectively shooting the dragon in the eye. 

The dragon reared back and roared in pain as blood rained down from its eye, spraying the ground beneath it a dark red. While it was distracted, Morrigan scuttled backwards and then ran full force. She leapt in her spider form and landed behind Bridget. Bridget looked behind her and nodded as Morrigan sank her spider fangs into the back of the dragon. 

The beast howled in pain again, a billowing cry as Leliana aimed for its other eye and shot it out expertly. Now that the dragon was blind and completely delirious with pain, Bridget continued to scale it. She wrapped her legs around its neck as Morrigan continued to poison it with her fangs. The venom began to take an effect on the dragon as its wings began to slow down. Bridget withdrew the dagger at her thigh and thrusted it into the side of the dragon’s neck. 

The dragon roared once more, yet this roar sounded desperate, hopeless, unlike the others. Bridget continued to stab it as Morrigan injected the last of her venom. The inside of the dragon felt as if it were turning into stone. It grew cold, colder than even the wind and snow outside. It attempted to breathe fire once more, but found it could no longer produce the flame. Bridget gave one final thrust with her dagger before she hopped on Morrigan’s back. She held on tightly as Morrigan leapt from the back of the dragon and hurried away to safety. 

Leliana gracefully climbed down from the dragon’s perch and joined the others as they watched the dragon slowly become paralyzed, fall over, and cease to move. They all waited with bated breath for several moments to ensure the dragon was really dead. Knowing now that they were victorious, they all breathed a hefty sigh of relief and cheered. 

Alistair lifted Bridget off her feet and swung her around in place before he planted a kiss to her lips and grinned. 

“You’re so amazing! All three of you just…wow!”

Zevran looped his arm around Leliana’s waist and pulled her in for a hug. He gave her a quick kiss to her cheek and smiled. 

“We are ridiculously awesome!” he exclaimed. 

They took a moment to briefly celebrate, even Morrigan allowed a quick hug from Bridget and took pride in her abilities as Alistair and Zevran gushed about her quick thinking.

After the high from the dragon slaying began to wear off, the companions decided to set up camp on the mountain top and rest before entering the gauntlet. They got cleaned up and sat around the fire, eating what they could as the majority of their food was left with Wynne, Genitivi, and Zeus.

Zevran asked Morrigan if she thought she knew where the dragon’s horde might be. Leliana commented that she thought she saw some gold tucked away in its nest on the perch from before. With a lot of pleading, Morrigan transformed back into her spider form so Zevran and Leliana could go back up to the perch and pilfer through the treasures the dragon had been offered. 

Once they were out of earshot, Alistair took the opportunity to have a bit of time to himself with Bridget. They laid next to each other and snuggled together to keep warm. Even with the fire going, there was still a freezing chill in the air. 

“I don’t think many men can say that their women can take down a fully grown high dragon,” he mused. 

Bridget smiled and chuckled. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold as was the tip of her nose. Alistair placed a soft kiss there and bumped his nose against hers. 

“I want you,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to her neck and nuzzled her there. 

“Mmm…but we need to press on. Let’s wait until we’re properly set up in camp after we’ve got the Ashes. Back down in the lowlands it won’t be quite as cold as it is here on the mountaintop,” she replied. 

Alistair conceded, plus, he wasn’t sure how quickly the others would return and didn’t want anything to be interrupted. 

“Alright, but just so you know, once we do make it back down the mountain and set up camp, I intend to ravish you in celebration,” he stated. 

Bridget grinned and kissed him softly. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she laughed before she leaned forward and kissed him again.

xXx

After taking an hour or so to rest up, the companions pulled up their makeshift campsite and pressed on. The next part of the temple, Bridget knew, must house the Guardian. Once they entered, they could immediately sense his presence and were not surprised when he appeared before them. He was clad in full armor that bore Andraste’s symbol and looked every bit a holy knight.

“I bid you welcome, Pilgrim.”

Bridget nodded her head. 

“You must be the Guardian,” she stated. 

“Yes. I am the Guardian of the Ashes. I have waited years for this,” he replied. 

Bridget drew her brows together.

“Why have you been here for so long?” 

The Guardian took a deep breath before he answered. 

“It has been my sacred duty to prepare the faithful to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting have I been here, and shall I remain until my task is complete.”

“Will your task ever be done?” Alistair asked curiously. 

The Guardian shifted his gaze to him. 

“I do not know and I do not question,” he answered. 

The air grew still as the Guardian addressed Bridget. 

“You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy.”

Everyone sighed and groaned softly. 

“We just slayed a high dragon, isn’t that proof enough that we are worthy?” Zevran asked. 

The Guardian shook his head. 

“It is not my place to decide if you are worthy, but the Gauntlet’s. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…”

Alistair grimaced. 

“Let me guess, we die a horrible and excruciating death?” 

Bridget sighed.

“What is this Gauntlet?”

“The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo three tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares.”

Zevran frowned and looked around uneasily. 

“Hmm…perhaps I should sit this one out…”

“I make no judgment of your path, Pilgrim. Neither will the Gauntlet,” The Guardian stated.   

Bridget nodded. 

“Alright, we are ready to begin.”

The Guardian swept his all-knowing eyes over Bridget and narrowed them slightly. 

“Before you go, there is something I must ask. There is suffering in your past, great suffering that you and those you loved endured. You left your parents to the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing that he would show them no mercy. Tell me, do you believe you have failed your parents?”

The others looked at each other warily as Bridget was blindsided by the Guardian’s question. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it and blinked back tears. Bridget took a deep breath as she looked up at the Guardian and stared into his storm gray eyes. 

“I left at the behest of my parents. They would not allow me to stay. It would have done me no good to die with them. In escaping, I have managed to win my home back from Howe’s clutches and in the process, I have hurt him deeply by taking the life of his son. He knows that I hunt him and I will exact my vengeance upon him. So to answer your question, Guardian, no. I do not feel like I have failed my parents. They would be proud of me, this, I am sure of.” 

Alistair smiled. 

“Well said, my love,” he whispered. 

The others nodded in agreement. The Guardian seemed satisfied. 

“Thank you, that is all I wished to know. The way before you is open; the Gauntlet awaits. Good luck to you, Pilgrim. May Andraste guide you, always.”

Bridget and the others walked through the large doors that opened to a room full of spirits. They were unsure exactly what the challenge was at first, but soon realized this room meant to test their knowledge of Andraste. The spirits asked a series of riddles that pertained to Andraste’s life, and Bridget kicked herself for not paying closer attention to her studies in this subject when she was a child. 

Thankfully, Leliana was there to answer the majority of them. After the riddles were solved, Bridget led her friends into the next chamber and stopped abruptly at the apparition of her father that stood before her. 

Her friends grew quiet as Bridget stared at her father’s ghost, if that’s what it truly was. She remembered the cruel trick of the sloth demon and turned her head quickly. 

“No…I will not be fooled again,” she whispered. 

However, when she chanced a glance back, she noticed that Bryce’s shadow was his own and not that of a demon’s.

“Hello Pup, oh my dearest girl.”

Tears fell from Bridget’s eyes as she looked up at her father, into the crystal blue eyes that she shared with him. 

“Father…it’s really you?” she asked softly. 

Bryce gave her a small smile and took her hands in his. 

“Yes, my dear. I have come to tell you that it is okay. You have grieved for us enough and I do not want that to hold you back any longer. Your mother and I made you go and we don’t regret that decision, not even now. Acknowledge what happened and release it, my love. You have such a long journey ahead and you must prepare for it. You must let us go and know that we are with you, always.” 

Bridget nodded as she shook with sobs. Alistair put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Bryce acknowledged him with a friendly nod and then turned his attention back to Bridget. 

“I could not be more proud of you, Pup. Follow your heart, do what you believe is right, and know that your mother and I do not regret sending you away that night for anything. Live, my darling. Live for us and make sure no one forgets our name. I love you.” 

Bridget sniffled as she felt her father place a kiss to her forehead like he always did when she was a child. Byrce looked once more at Alistair. 

“Watch over her,” he stated. 

Alistair nodded and Bryce vanished instantly. Bridget took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes. She let her father’s words sink in as she swallowed and took another breath to calm herself down. Bryce was right, it was time to stop beating herself up over what happened. Her parents were proud of her, just as she told the Guardian they would be. While she didn’t believe herself when she stated that fact, she now had her father’s validation from his own lips. 

Her parents were proud of her, and to continue to wallow in grief would only prevent her from seeing her quest through to the end. She could do this, and now, she knew without a doubt, that her family would be with her every step of the way. 

Bridget placed her hand atop Alistair’s that was still resting on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m ready. Let’s continue.”

The others shared a glance and smiled, for they were proud of their friend too. They followed Bridget into the next chamber. It was quiet at first until they noticed five figures standing in the shadows. 

“What…” before Alistair could finish his sentence, he was hit with a blast of magic that sent him tumbling backwards. 

Leliana drew her bow and prepared an arrow as she frantically looked around the room. 

“What kind of evil is this?” she asked as she dodged and deflected arrows that were being shot at her.

“Some kind of trick! These spirits have taken our forms and attack us!” Morrigan exclaimed. 

An intense battle ensued in which the companions had to fight themselves. Thisproved to be tricky indeed. Eventually, instead of trying to take on each other, they each focused on their own shadow spirit. This was much easier as everyone knew their own weaknesses but not necessarily each other's.

Once the shadow spirits were defeated and Morrigan cast a simple healing spell on everyone, the group pressed on. 

In the following chamber, a large chasm lay ahead with raised platforms on the other side that, when stood on as Alistair helpfully volunteered, made a platform rise from below the gaping hole. 

Zevran sighed. 

“Let me guess, this is some kind of metaphor about building bridges with friends or some such? He asked, unamused. 

Morrigan rolled her eyes. 

“Ugh, how terribly cliche. I hate it.” 

This puzzle was a bit more difficult than Bridget would have liked to admit. It took several attempts before the companions finally found the right combination for the mechanism and at long last the bridge was complete.

“Thank the maker there aren’t any timed trials,” Alistair mumbled. 

“Quiet, you fool! Don’t give that spirit any ideas!” Morrigan hissed, clearly irritated and ready to move on. 

Bridget led her friends into the next room and gasped slightly as her eyes laid on the Urn just ahead. Leliana’s eyes filled with tears and she fell to her knees in prayer and offered thanks to the Maker. 

“This is it…this is really it. It’s not just a myth after all,” Alistair whispered in awe. 

Morrigan heaved a heavy sigh and inspected her fingernails. 

“Are we just going to stand here and gawk at it or are we going to get what we came for?” she asked impatiently. 

Zevran nodded and rubbed his hands together. 

“Indeed, I am ready to get off this icicle of a mountain.”

The Guardian appeared before Bridget and bowed his head. 

“You have completed the Gauntlet and have proved yourself worthy, Pilgrim. You may take a pinch of the Ashes.”

Bridget took a breath and approached the staircase that led to the Ashes with trepidation. The sun glinted beautifully upon the statue of Andraste that stood over Her ashes. It made the Urn itself seemingly glow. 

As Bridget and the others climbed the stairs, Alistair whispered,

“I didn’t think anyone was capable of finding Andraste’s final resting place but here…here She is.”

Zevran shrugged as they reached the top of the stairs. 

“Nice vase, I should get one for my home.”

Leliana was speechless and Morrigan simply looked bored. Bridget removed a small pouch from her pack and gently removed the lid to the urn. She carefully took a pinch of the Ashes and secured them within the pouch. Bridget released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and turned to her friends with a relieved smile. 

“Let’s head back. I’m ready for a warm meal by the fire.”

“Agreed!” Zevran exclaimed. 

The trek back to the ruined temple wasn’t long now that all the enemies lay slayed. All Bridget had to do was follow the string of corpses and eventually, she and her friends made it back to the dusty library where Genitivi, Wynne, and Zeus were waiting for them.  Zeus barked happily and nearly threw Bridget down when he bounded for her. He licked her face happily and accepted all the praise and pets for being a good boy. 

Genitivi beamed at them and stood. Wynne had taken the time to heal his leg properly and he looked like he was in much better health. 

“I’m so glad you’ve returned! Did you find it?” he asked eagerly. 

Bridget nodded and showed Genitivi the pouch that contained the Ashes.

“Oh Maker…oh…I am not worthy to look upon…what was it like? Coming to the Urn, seeing it before you?”

Bridget thought of a satisfying answer before she gave her response. 

“The tests were grueling but in the end, I was very moved. It was an honor to stand before the Urn and feel Andraste’s presence around me.”

“You are very fortunate. As am I. This should be shared with the world, to think of the hope it would bring!”

Bridget contemplated Genitivi’s words for a moment before she replied,

“Yes, I do believe it could bring hope to many, however, it would be ensured that no one would try to exploit such a discovery.”

Genitivi nodded and scribbled that down in his notebook. 

“This is very true. I must return home, if you ever find yourself in Denerim, do stop by! I must give you some kind of reward!”

Bridget smiled and shook her head kindly.

“No need, my friend. Would you like to travel with us? At least as far as Redcliffe?” she offered. 

Genitivi shook his head. 

“I’m afraid I would only slow you down. There is a village not far from here, Honnleath. I plan to stop there and get some supplies for the journey ahead. You’re welcome to accompany me, if you like, and we may part ways there.”

Zevran pushed himself forward and stood next to Bridget.

“Does this village have an inn or a tavern we may stay in?”

Genitivi nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh yes, they’re friendly folk. Nothing like the nightmares of this village.”

Alistair grinned. 

“Say no more,” he began as he slung his pack over his shoulder, “We’ll gladly accompany you!”

Honnleath was a welcome sight to see for the weary companions, and thanks to Zevran’s quick fingers, he found enough gold from the dragon’s horde so that they could all have a fine meal and stay at the inn that evening. 

The friends ate and filled their bellies with meat, bread, stew, cheese, potatoes, and pie. They were all ravenous and had grown tired of the measly meals they had gotten used to on the road. After dinner, they each bid each other farewell and went to their separate rooms, all save for Bridget and Alistair who requested a room for themselves. 

Zeus lay languidly by the roaring fire, his belly full and sleepiness pulling his eyelids low. He chewed contently on a bone and paid no mind to Bridget and Alistair, who sat in the nearby tub and bathed each other. They washed away all the grime that had accumulated from this latest quest and enjoyed the feeling of the warm water against their bodies, a stark contrast from the freezing cold winds from the mountain. 

After they dried off, they settled themselves against the fur blankets and made love. It felt like ages since the last time they had been intimate, so Alistair made sure to take his time and draw it out as long as he could. 

They kissed and sucked at each other’s skin, earning mewls and moans and complacent sighs. When Alistair buried himself within his love, he sighed happily at the expanse of her warmth. How he had missed it so!

Alistair set a steady pace of rocking his hips as Bridget wrapped her legs around his waist and breathed his name. When their positions flipped and Bridget straddled Alistair, she ran her hands down his chest and played with the coarse hair there as she swirled her hips over him, panting and biting her lip. 

Bridget could feel her release building pleasantly within her. She leaned forward and kissed Alistair passionately before she broke the kiss and rode him harder until a galaxy of stars appeared behind her eyelids and all the tension left her body in a pleasant release. 

Bridget gasped as Alistair flipped them back over. He gripped the headboard and grunted as he called out Bridget’s name, his thrusts becoming deeper and more erratic. Bridget urged him on, she drug her nails down his back and gripped his ass as he plunged into her, driving her that much closer to another climax. 

As Bridget closed her eyes and called out his name, Alistair met his end and spilled himself inside his love. The feel of her walls clamped around his aching cock made Alistair tremble. Bridget wrapped her arms around him and held him close until their breathing returned to normal. 

Alistair lifted his head and grinned at her. Bridget smiled back as he brushed some of her damp hair away that wished to cling to her face. 

“Maker, you’re so beautiful. I love you so much,” he whispered huskily. 

Bridget smiled and kissed Alistair softly.

“I love you too, Alistair. I love you too.”

After a moment of nuzzling her neck, Alistair shifted and rolled off of Bridget and onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he glanced back at Bridget and smiled nervously. 

Bridget propped herself up on her arm and furrowed her brow. 

“What is it?” she asked softly. 

Alistair blushed. 

“I um…I have something for you,” he stated. 

Bridget raised her eyebrows and tipped her head to the side. 

“Oh? Is it something naughty? Is that why you’re blushing,” she teased. 

Alistair chuckled and reached over the side of the bed for his pack. 

“No, it’s not quite naughty, though you’ve just given me several ideas for the future! Um…could you close your eyes?”

Bridget grinned and did so. She could hear Alistair rummage in his pack and felt the bed shift slightly. 

“O-Okay…you can look now.” 

Bridget opened her eyes and looked at Alistair and noticed the hopeful look in his eyes. She then looked down at his hand and noticed it was open and outstretched towards her. In the center of his palm was a simple iron ring. 

Bridget blinked as she felt a swarm of butterflies invade her stomach. She sucked in a breath and glanced back at Alistair. 

“Alistair,” she began, but he cut her off. 

“I-I know what you’re thinking and it’s not that. Not yet…anyway. This is more of a promise of sorts. A promise of what will hopefully come. Zevran helped me make it when we were in Orzammar. I wanted to give it to you to let you know that…well…that no matter what, you have my promise that we will always be together. Nothing can tear us apart.” 

Bridget blinked back tears of happiness and leaned forward. She placed her hand on the side of Alistair’s face and kissed him deeply. 

“I love it, Alistair. Thank you! Will you slide it on my finger?”

Alistair grinned and nodded as he did what he was asked. Bridget looked up at him and rested her forehead against his. 

“I love you, and I promise to always be with you, no matter what.” 

Alistair kissed her softly before he pulled back and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I don’t know what the future holds, my love. But I know I want you next to me, with me, until I take my dying breath. I’ll always love you.”

Bridget let a tear roll down her cheek as she returned Alsitair’s sentiment and pulled him back down on top of her. The two lovers celebrated with another round of love making. Afterwards, as they lay in the blissful afterglow and nuzzled into each other to let sleep overtake them, everything, for once, seemed as if it had perfectly fallen into place. 

However…neither of them knew of the things that were to come. Duty, honor, a greater threat to their love than even the Darkspawn and the Blight itself. 

A bitter grudge of unrequited feelings and rejection that no amount of time had softened, lied dormant and trapped in the dark. But soon, soon it would awaken and when it did, it would make the young lovers question everything they knew. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

A Daughter’s Fear

Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon

Royal Palace

Snow fell steadily from the gray skies above. Anora watched sadly from the window in her room and placed her hand against the cold glass. Tears filled her eyes as she balled her hand into a fist and clenched it tightly. Loghain had made it clear that she was not to leave her rooms, but once again, failed to provide an explanation as to why . This happened a few weeks prior when Arl Howe received a disturbing letter, however, Anora was kept in the dark as to what the letter said.  It must have been bad, however, as Loghain decided at that moment that Anora was no longer allowed to walk amongst the halls or the grounds of the castle, not even with Cauthrien or another guard as an escort. Part of her feared that her father had caught on to their secret relationship, as she had barely seen Cauthrien in that span of time as well.  It wasn’t until now, when she heard a faint knock at her door, that Cauthrien returned to her. Anora pulled her into her room quickly and shut the door, surprised and ecstatic at the same time, but also scared and wary. 

“Oh my love, it’s so good to see you,” Cauthrien began as she pulled Anora into a tight embrace. 

Anora felt hot tears roll down her cheeks as she heaved a sob. She pulled back just enough to kiss Cauthrien deeply. Her lips were soft and slightly chapped, and she was cold. She must have been placed on some duty that kept her outdoors. 

“Come by the fire and warm up, you’re chilled to the bone,”  Anora insisted. 

Cauthrien nodded but noted that she must be quick. 

“The guards outside of your room will be back soon, I’ll have to make sure I’m standing outside your door when they return,” she explained. 

Anora nodded. 

“What news do you bring?” she asked anxiously. 

Cauthrien smirked and took Anora’s hands in hers.

“I know what happened, what Howe received and why your father decided to keep you here.” she stated. 

Anora took in a breath and listened as Cauthrien explained everything, from the Wardens taking back Castle Cousland, to sending Thomas’s head back to Howe in a box. Anora grinned. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at knowing that Howe was truly scared now and that it was only a matter of time before Bryce’s daughter caught up with him. 

“So, my father is keeping me here for my safety?” she deduced. 

Cauthrien nodded. 

“In his own way of thinking, yes. Clearly you are not the target, which makes me apprehensive. Would he have an ulterior motive for keeping you locked away like this?”

Anora drew her brows together. She wanted to say that she knew her father well and what he could be thinking, but at the same time, she was beginning to realize that she didn’t know her father at all. Before she could reply, Cauthrien held up her hand. She motioned towards the door as she whispered that she heard footsteps and made a prompt exit.  Anora sighed and stared into the fire crackling within the fireplace. At least she would have time to think about everything Cauthrien had revealed, or so she thought, for a moment later, her father burst into her room.  Anora jumped as the heavy wooden door banged loudly against the wall. She stood and glared at her father. Loghain eyed Anora suspiciously. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, but Anora stood her ground and did not falter beneath her father’s gaze. 

“You are to visit the Arl of Denerim’s estate today,” Loghain stated. 

Anora scoffed. 

“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, you have locked me away like a fairytale princess, and now you barge in here and make these demands without any explanation? Why should I visit the Arl of Denerim?”

Loghain smiled darkly. 

“It is customary for the Queen to visit a newly appointed Arl at his estate and have tea with him,” he explained. 

Anora furrowed her brow. 

“What do you mean ‘newly appointed’, what happened to Arl Kendells?”

Loghain stepped into the room and placed his hands behind his back. He strode past Anora and stood in front of the fire. He paused a moment to stare at the mantle before he replied,

“Arl Kendells died at Ostagar when the Wardens betrayed us and never lit their signal.”

Anora covered her mouth with her hand to hide her look of disgust, knowing that her father was lying. After a moment, she recovered. 

“So you wish for me to have tea with his son, Vaughn?” 

Loghian pursed his lips together and tipped his head to the side as he shifted his gaze into the fire that crackled angrily in the fireplace. 

“No, I’m afraid he is dead, too. Killed in an attack within the alienage by those savage elves, or so I heard.” 

Anora frowned as she shot a worried glance at Cauthrien who stood in the doorway listening to the exchange. Dread filled her body as Anora swallowed and asked, 

“So…who is the Arl of Denerim, then?” 

Anora already knew the answer before her father replied, yet when she heard him say Howe’s name, she felt her stomach clench and her heart plummet. Anora whipped around to face him. 

“Howe? Rendon Howe? How can he possibly be the Arl of Denerim when he is already the Arl of Amaranthine and holds the Terynir of Highever as well?” 

Loghain pulled his attention away from the fire and narrowed his eyes as he faced his daughter. 

“Because, I made it so. Now, you will go and have tea with him and congratulate him on his Arldom. Cuathrien will accompany you to his estate.” 

Before Anora could say anything, Loghain strode towards the exit. Once he reached the doorway, he paused. 

“Do make haste, it would be rude to keep him waiting as he is our greatest ally.” 

With that, Loghain stomped off and returned to his study. Once she could no longer hear the clank of his armor or his heavy footsteps, Anora released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and gripped the back of a nearby chair for support. 

“We are running out of time. I’ve never seen a man so consumed with power…and my father just willingly gives it to him! We must do something! Let us go and meet with him, away from the eyes and ears of my father, we may be able to find some kind of evidence that will help the Wardens when they come here.”

Cauthrien shook her head. 

“I have a bad feeling about all of this. Would Howe go as far as to ask for your hand? Would your father even hesitate to give it to him? I cannot bear to see you wed to another again when I know where your heart truly lies…”

Anora took Cauthrien’s hands in hers and brought them to her lips. She kissed them firmly and stared deep into her lover’s eyes as she squeezed her hands tightly. 

“I would rather die than be forced to marry another man, especially one as despicable as Howe. But fear not, my love. I am my father’s daughter, I know how to play this game. Let us go see if I can make the new Arl squirm.” 

xXx

Traveling to the estate was not difficult, by any means, but on the carriage ride over, Cauthrien still could not shake the wary feeling she held within the pit of her stomach. She believed in Anora with all her heart, and if anyone could get Howe to talk, it would most likely be her. Yet still, considering all the underhanded things Loghain had done up to this point, she couldn’t help but wonder if this little rendezvous was part of a larger scheme. 

The more she thought of it, the more unlikely it seemed that he would allow Howe to ask for Anora’s hand. If he did that, Loghain would lose the power he held as regent. No, there must be something else that Cauthrien had not yet considered. As they arrived at the estate and exited the carriage, Cauthrien kept her hand atop the hilt of her sword and did not remove it. 

As they were greeted by Howe’s staff and led to the nearest drawing room, another red flag flew high when the servant asked Cauthrien to remain outside of the room. She immediately went to protest, but Anora held up her hand and gave her a look that told her to mind her tongue. 

“I will call for you should I need you,” she whispered as she walked past her and followed the young man into the drawing room. 

Cauthrien took a deep breath and watched Anora for as long as she could until the doors were closed behind her. She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly and vowed that if anything happened to her while in the walls of this estate, she would gladly help the Cousland girl exact her vengeance upon Howe. 

Cauthrien took a deep breath and whispered a prayer to the Maker that this would be no more than a quick meeting and they could return to the palace without consequence. 

Anora strode into the room with the presence and dignity befitting a queen. Howe stood from the plush chair he sat in and bowed deeply in greeting. Anora curtsied back in response, doing her best to hide her distaste for the man that stood before her. She was ushered to a nearby chair where she sat comfortably, her black dress flowing and resting around her. 

The pageboy that led her into the room began to busy himself with preparing the tea while Howe and Anora exchanged pleasantries. Anora did her best to keep her eye contact with Howe, though she could not help but wonder if the boy would be stupid enough to try and sneak something into her tea. Anora’s guard was up and her defenses would not be easily broken. When the tea cup was offered to her she accepted it, but did not immediately take a sip. 

Anora couldn’t trust Howe as far as she could lift him up and throw him across the room. Even as he began to drink from his own tea cup, she did not dare take a sip from her own. She brought the cup to her lips and pretended to do so, as she had been instructed many years ago, but the liquid never touched her lips and Howe was none the wiser. 

After a rather long and awkward silence, Anora decided to break it and eyed Howe coolly over the edge of her cup. 

“I suppose I should congratulate you, Arl Howe. I have never met a man who held two Arldoms as well as a Teyrnir before. I find that quite fascinating.” 

Howe smiled smugly. Anora hid her elation. Men were so predictable. Inflate their ego and congratulate them on being masters of the universe and they would reveal nearly all their secrets to a pretty face. 

“I thank you, your Majesty. Yes, I have been very fortunate indeed. Though, I must admit, I did give the Terynir of Highever to my son, Thomas after the tragedy that befell the Cousland family.” 

Anora nodded and pretended to take another sip of tea. 

“Indeed. What an awful tragedy that was. How fortunate that you and your men that were present at the castle managed to escape…completely unscathed.” 

Howe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Hmm…yes, quite. The Maker smiled kindly upon me that fateful night. I only wish he could have spared my dear friend and his family as well. I miss them greatly, you know. I had hoped to unite our families with a marriage between my youngest and Bryce’s daughter…but I suppose fate had other plans.”

Anora blinked but betrayed no emotion on her face. As she cursed Howe mentally, a devious idea bloomed in her mind like a black rose amidst a garden of reds and pinks. 

“Fate is a rather interesting concept, is it not? Have you considered other marital options for Thomas now that your original plans have been…altered for lack of a better word?” 

Howe raised his eyebrows. 

“I…am not sure that I follow, your Majesty,” he replied slowly. 

Anora smiled sweetly at him. 

“I know that you and my father are rather close, and as you know I am newly widowed. Would it be too bold of me to propose a marriage contract between myself and Thomas?” 

Howe nearly dropped his teacup, but recovered quickly. 

“Oh! Oh…why, I thank you for even considering such a possibility, my Queen. I would, of course, have to speak to Thomas about this. It may be some time before I hear from him of course,”

Anora quirked her brow. 

“And why is that?” she asked innocently. 

Again, Howe shifted uncomfortably. 

“Err, well, he is a very busy man, after all,”

“Too busy for his queen?” Anora pressed. 

Howe shook his head. 

“Ah, no your majesty, of course not, he is…ah… ahem. I apologize. Thomas is…dead. I’m sorry, I do not know why I tried to mislead you.”

Anora took a moment to size Howe up. She noticed a bead of sweat trickle down from his temple and blinked innocently at him. 

“Oh…my heartfelt condolences. Was it sudden and very recent? Perhaps that is why you were speaking as if he were still alive.”

Howe, grateful for a scapegoat, heaved a sigh of relief and nodded quickly. 

“Y-Yes. An illness claimed his life. Maker knows, he never had a very strong constitution. I thank you for your condolences, my Queen.” 

Anora narrowed her eyes at Howe and tipped her head to the side. 

“You are either very brave or very stupid to attempt to lie to me twice, Arl Howe.” she stated. 

Howe shot his gaze to her. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked. 

Anora sat at her full height and stared down at Howe like the small man that he was. 

“I heard a very different tale in regards to Thomas’s death.” 

Howe took a deep breath and sat straight as well, realizing now that he was engaged in battle. 

“Do enlighten me on what you heard, your majesty, locked away in your room as you were.” 

Anora knew that was meant to be an insult, but she let it roll off her shoulders as she leaned forward. 

“I heard it was fate that caught up with Thomas…and I hear that she is hunting you, too.” she whispered. 

Howe’s eyes widened and Anora noted the fear that flashed behind them. 

“How do you…”

Anora smirked. 

“I have eyes and ears all over this city, Arl Howe. I know you and my father are plotting something and I demand that you tell me what it is!”

Howe chuckled darkly and languidly crossed his legs as he sat back to relax. 

“Oh my dear, naïve girl. You do not know the lengths your father will go to to ensure his survival, do you? Or that of this nation’s?”

Before Anora could respond, Howe snapped his fingers. Two armored guards appeared from the shadows and rushed towards Anora. She yelped in surprise as they grabbed her. Cauthrien burst into the room but was barred from getting any closer by two more of Howe’s men. 

Anora struggled against the guards as Howe approached her with a smug and satisfied smile on his face. 

“How dare you! Unhand me at once! I am your queen ! This is treason!” she exclaimed. 

Howe chuckled darkly and caressed the side of Anora’s face. She repulsed at his touch. 

“Again, you are a naive and stupid girl. Don’t you get it? This was all your father’s idea. As was deposing the previous Arl of Denerim and his brainless son. Your father is selling elves from the alienage to Tevinter to foster an alliance so that together, we may invade Orlais and burn Celene and her Empire to the ground.”

Anora’s eyes widened in horror as she shot a glance to Cauthrien. Howe snickered. 

“Yes…there is nothing your father wouldn’t do in order to ensure Ferelden’s future. You should think about that, your majesty. Take her away.” 

Anora gaped at Howe as his guards began to drag her away. She shook their hands off of her and narrowed her eyes. 

“You will not take me from here as if I am some common criminal! I will walk with dignity to wherever you intend to hold me prisoner!” 

Howe’s men looked at him and he nodded and waved his hand dismissively. 

“I’ll allow it.”  

Anora pursed her lips together and approached Howe. His guards made to move but he held up his hand, keen to hear what the young queen had to say. She looked at him with pure hatred in her eyes. 

“Remember what I said about fate, Arl Howe. She hunts for you. My only hope is that when she finds you, she will deliver a death so painful that even your spirit will writhe in agony long after your body has turned to ash.” 

Howe blanched at her words. Anora spit at his feet and turned on her heel and allowed the guards to take her away. She glanced at Cauthrien and, while she dared not shed a tear, her eyes held a look that pulled at Cauthrien’s heart. 

“You’re mad! General Loghain will never let you get away with this!” she exclaimed as Anora disappeared into the next room. 

Howe laughed arrogantly and crossed his arms. 

“I already told you this was his idea. If you don’t believe me, you can certainly ask him about it.” 

Cauthrien shook her head and bolted from the estate as quickly as she could. Howe’s laughter rang in her ears like a sick bell. As she made her way outside, she noticed the carriage was gone. Cauthrien cursed under her breath and made a mad dash through the city streets and back to the palace. 

Howe had gone mad, there was no way Loghain would allow for his own daughter to be kidnapped. It just wasn’t a possibility! But as Cauthrien rounded the corner of the marketplace, she began to have doubts. It felt like an entire age had passed before Cauthrien finally clambered up the steps to the palace. She wasted no time with pleasantries as she rushed past everyone and made her way to Loghain’s study. 

As she burst into his room, she held the stitch in her side and gasped for breath. Her hair had partly fallen out of her bun and stuck to her sweaty forehead. Loghain did not appear surprised to see her in such a state and barely even lifted his head from the map spread across his desk to acknowledge her presence. 

“Do quiet down, Cauthrien. Your heaving is distracting.” he stated. 

Cauthrien ignored his curt comment and shook her head. 

“My lord, Arl Howe…he’s holding Queen Anora hostage! He ordered his guards to accost her and take her away! I…I didn’t know what else to do so I came to you! Shall I rally the men to storm his estate or should we take a more covert approach?” 

“No,” Loghain replied. 

Cauthrien blinked. 

“No… what ?” she asked. 

Loghain sighed impatiently and took a deep breath. He pushed his chair backwards and stood at his desk. Cauthrien eyed him suspiciously as he approached her. 

“No, we will not be storming Arl Howe’s estate with a frontal assault or sneaking in like a bunch of thieves. I orchestrated the entire thing. Anora is to remain at Howe’s estate until I see fit or she is needed.” 

Cauthrien’s blood ran cold. 

“Needed for what, exactly?” she asked fearfully. 

Loghain took a long draw from his wine goblet and set it down on the edge of his desk. He moved closer to Cauthrien and bent down to her ear. 

“I will do anything to see Ferelden win, Cauthrien. Even if that means I must make sacrifices. I love my daughter, but I love my country more. If it comes to it…I will not hesitate to choose.” 

Cauthrien’s eyes widened in horror, though she tried not to betray her emotions. She had to remain on the inside, within Loghain’s inner circle if she had any hope to rescue Anora. Cauthrien swallowed the bile that rose in the back of her throat and begrudgingly nodded her head. 

“I…understand, sir. Forgive me for barging in like this.” she replied. 

Loghain pulled back and looked at her a moment before he sighed. 

“Take tonight off to clear your head. Come back to me as my first hand tomorrow…and we’ll forget all of the nasty business of today, shall we?”

Again, Cauthrien nodded.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” 

Loghain smiled satisfactorily. 

“Good. Now, away with you. I must return to my work.” 

Cauthrien bowed and slowly backed out of Loghain’s office. Once she was back in the hallway and out of earshot, she broke out into a run and bolted from the palace as quickly as she could. Cauthrien made it to the palace gates before she doubled over and vomited what little contents her stomach carried. 

After she recovered, Cauthrien wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and slowly made her way to the Gnawed Noble. She needed to eat and rehydrate herself, but more importantly, she needed somewhere she could sit and think . 

The tavern, thankfully, wasn’t a far trek and Cauthrien sat at the bar and put her head in her hands. The barkeep regarded her sympathetically as he placed a mug of ale in front of her. 

“Get you anything to eat, love?” he asked kindly. 

Cauthrien nodded and ordered some food. She didn’t even care what it was. Her head was pounding and she could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck as her entire body felt like it was trapped in a state of panic. A couple of men sat at the far end of the bar talking quietly. Cauthrien made a point to block out all the noise in the tavern completely until she heard the men whisper Loghain’s name. Without making it obvious, Cauthrien picked her head up slightly and turned her ear to their conversation. 

“When you think he’s gonna get sacked? Surely the Bannorn can come together and depose him?” 

The man’s friend shook his head. 

“Need an Arl to do that. Kendell’s missing, probably dead. Eamon’s still on his deathbed. All the others are tied up dealing with the Blight that Loghain’s insisting on ignoring.”

The barkeep returned and as he passed by the men, he looked around and bent closer to them. Cauthrien strained to hear him. 

“I hear the Wardens were searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes.” 

One of the other men scoffed. 

“Yer talkin’ outta yer ass for sure, mate. The Urn’s a myth, everyone knows that!”

The barkeep shrugged. 

“Just what I heard, is all. Take it or leave it. Me? I’m looking for the smallest grain of hope wherever I can find it.” 

Cauthrien turned her head slowly as the barkeep approached her with her order. He placed it down in front of her and asked if she needed anything else. Cauthrien looked up at him and drew her brows together as a single tear drop fell from her eyes.  

“I need hope,” she answered truthfully.  

The kind barkeep smiled sadly at her and leaned in close. 

“All I know is what I’ve heard whispered in the winds, love. Wish I could tell you something more reassuring than that. Arl Eamon’s a good man, though. He won’t take kindly to what Loghain’s done, especially if the rumor is true that he’s the one that had him poisoned in the first place.”

Cauthrien nodded.

“Indeed. Do you know how soon he may arrive?” 

The barkeep grabbed a glass and began to shine it with his rag.

“That all depends on if the Wardens were successful in their search. Last I heard they were up in the Frostbacks desperately trying to locate the Urn, but beyond that I know nothing else. Tell you what, come back in a day or two after I’ve heard some more news and I’ll gladly pass it on to you. Now eat up, you look like you need a good meal.” 

With that, the kind man waved at some other patrons that came in and turned to pour their drinks. Cauthrien began to eat her chicken slowly and, after tasting the seasoning on it, her stomach growled loudly and she began to eat more. She had to keep her strength up and couldn’t let despair swallow her, as badly as she wanted it to. 

No, she had to play her cards right and keep up appearances. She couldn’t let Loghain know that she intended to betray him, else she would end up in Fort Drakon and would never see Anora again. Cauthrien drank her ale deeply and continued to eat. She decided as soon as she heard of Eamon’s arrival in town, she would seek him out. Surely the Wardens would be with him and would be willing to help her. 

For the first time in a long while, Cauthrien allowed herself to hope. She prayed that the Wardens would find the Urn and would arrive quickly and that she could get an audience with them without Loghain noticing her absence. For all the things she had heard about the Cousland girl, her kindness was unmatched and she was willing to help anyone she came across. 

Cauthrien tossed some coins on the table as she finished her ale and made her exit. The brisk winds of winter chilled her as she stepped outside, but as the wind blew past her and danced with the tendrils of her hair, she was no longer afraid, but eager to take down Loghain and restore balance to her country and rescue her love. Cauthrien knew she would not rest until Anora was safely back in her arms, but she felt in her heart that she would hold her love once again soon enough. 

She just had to trust the cards of fate and allow herself to hope.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Eamon’s Awakening

Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon
Imperial Highway

A tangerine sun hung low in the clouds as it warmed the faces of Bridget and her companions. The trek from the Frostbacks to Redcliffe had been very cold and very brutal. Bridget was thankful as they had emerged back onto the Imperial Highway and left the frosty mountains behind them.

It was still freezing on the mainland, no doubt, but at least most of the snow had turned to slush and was mixed with mud. Bridget patted the pouch that contained the Ashes securely at her hip. She found herself doing so every few minutes to remind herself that they were truly in possession of the one thing that could cure Arl Eamon.

Bridget flicked her gaze to Alistair who was in an animated conversation…or perhaps playful argument with Zevran about something that was lost on the winds. Alistair had not mentioned another word about his birthright since the last time they spoke of it, yet she knew if the Ashes truly worked and Eamon was cured, that it was bound to come up.

Blood trumped any other claim to the throne, this was common knowledge. Bridget sighed as she continued to gaze at her lover and realized that his life may not be so simple anymore in the coming days. Bridget knew politics well enough from spending so much time with her father that, regardless of what Alistair wanted, the royal blood that flowed in his veins would damn him to the throne.

However, the only souls who knew of Alistair’s true birthright were withheld to those in their party, Eamon, and Teagan. Bridget supposed, depending on Eamon’s personality and feelings on the issue, he could always try to gain the throne for himself…but a fluttering feeling in her gut told her that this may not be the case.

Bridget shook her head and decided to put those thoughts in a box on a shelf and take them down only when she needed to. A feeling of relief washed over her as the gates of Redcliffe came into view. It almost felt as if she were returning home.

As Bridget and the others made their way up to the castle, waving greetings to the villagers they passed, a distinctive neigh turned Bridget’s attention to the stables. She and her companions grinned broadly as Pandora and Pyoris trotted into view, having safely found their way back home from when they had been lost in the Brecilian Forest.

Bridget grinned and slowly approached Pandora, so she would not startle the animal. Pandora’s eyes recognized Bridget instantly and she bowed her head to receive a pet. Bridget ran her hand down the magnificent mare’s snout and blinked back tears of joy. The stable boy, Jonas, appeared and smiled.

“My lord! They’ve returned!”

Bridget cast her eyes behind Jonas to see Teagan emerge from the stables. He carried a bale of hay over his shoulder, his shirt halfway opened revealing a toned chest dusted with copper hair. His shirt sleeves had been rolled up to show off his strong forearms, also dusted in that same copper hue. Bridget smiled kindly at him and inclined her head in greeting.

Teagan swept his gaze over Bridget and took her in. The sunlight made her hair glow as if she had a halo around her head. Her angelic features were not dimmed by the mud and muck that coated her boots and the bottom of her cloak. She was just as beautiful as ever and Teagan’s heart swelled as he set the bale of hay down and approached her.

“Milady,” he said as he bowed gracefully and took Bridget’s gloved hand in his.

Alistair, who had been occupied with feeding Pyoris a sugar cube, turned his attention to Bridget and Teagan and frowned. He felt that nasty feeling flare up in his chest again and strode over to where Bridget stood, just as Teagan placed his lips to her fingers.

Teagan either didn’t notice, or didn’t care to as he gently squeezed Bridget’s fingertips before he pulled away. He kindly nodded his head to Alistair, unbeknownst that the young man before him was writhing in jealousy.

“It gladdens my heart to see that you are well, Milady, and your friends as well. Please, tell me…were you successful in your search? Did you find the Urn?” he asked.

Bridget nodded and patted the pouch on her hip that contained the Ashes once more.

“Yes. We received a pinch of the Ashes for Eamon,” she replied.

Teagan breathed a huge sigh of relief, then to Bridget’s surprise as much as his own, he took her in his arms and enveloped her in a deep hug.

Alistair took a deep breath and breathed it out of his nostrils.

This doesn’t mean anything, he’s just really excited that we found the Ashes, that’s all. Teagan’s always been a hugger, this isn’t any different, Alistair thought, as he tried to quell the rage in his heart.

Teagan held Bridget to him tightly.
“I can only imagine what you sacrificed, what you risked, going to search for a miracle. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Alistair cleared his throat after a moment and Teagan released Bridget. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, embarrassed.

“Apologies…I forgot myself. Come, let us return to the castle. Isolde will want to hear this news.”

Bridget nodded, a little flustered by Teagan’s hug, and followed him with the others across the grounds and up to the castle. Alistair placed his hand firmly at Bridget’s back and had no intention of removing it. As they entered the foyer, Teagan turned to address them.

“If the rest of you do not mind waiting here, I’ll have some rooms made up for you. I do not know how the Ashes will work and I do not want Eamon to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces if-when he does awaken. Milady, Alistair, if you would follow me, I’ll take you to Eamon’s chamber.”

The others stayed behind as requested and Bridget and Alistair climbed the staircases that led to Eamon’s room. Outside, Connor sat playing with some toy soldiers absentmindedly. He perked up as he saw Teagan come into view.

“Uncle Teagan!” he exclaimed.

Teagan ruffled Connor’s hair.

“Where’s your mother?” Teagan asked.

Connor gestured to Eamon’s room behind him.

“With father, she just came back from the Chantry. Will you make my father better?” he asked, looking at Bridget hopefully.

Bridget smiled sweetly at him.

“I certainly hope so, Connor,” she stated.

Connor nodded.

“You saved me, and I bet a whole lot of other people too. I think you can save him as well!”

Teagan knocked gently on the door. A moment later, it opened to reveal a very tired and worn Isolde. Bridget drew her brows together as she studied her face. The woman looked as if she had not slept in weeks, purple bags clung underneath her eyelids and she looked very, very pale.

Isolde opened her mouth to address Teagan, but when her eyes fell to Bridget, she gasped.

“Did you…?” she asked before choking on a sob.

Bridget nodded. Isolde placed her hand over her mouth as tears fell from her eyes. She moved to let them enter. Teagan, Bridget, and Alistair filed in. Eamon’s room was large with a roaring fire in the fireplace nearby. A huge, four poster bed with a deep green canopy sat in the middle of the room, its headboard up against the wall. On it, piled under several blankets, lay Arl Eamon.

Bridget drew her brows together as she studied his pallid, thin face. His brow glistened with sweat from the fever wreaking havoc within his body. Irving’s charge nearby whispered an incantation and his hands erupted in a blue-green hue. He ran them over the length of Eamon’s body and he groaned, but his writhing stopped and he looked peaceful for a moment.

“The Warden has returned with the Ashes, Timothy,” Isolde whimpered.

The mage turned and raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t think it was possible…thank the Maker you were successful. My magic could only do so much. Lady Isolde, would you like to–”

Isolde shook her head.

“No, no I am not worthy to even gaze upon the Ashes. It must be the Warden. She needs to do it.”

Bridget glanced at Isolde.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Isolde took Bridget’s hands in hers and nodded.

“You were the one to find them, Milady. You are the only one worthy in this room to use them. Please, I beg of you,” Isolde cried.

Bridget nodded and slowly approached Eamon’s bedside. Her throat constricted as she got a better look at him. He was more a ghost than a man, his skin so pale white. Bridget removed her gloves and withdrew the pouch at her side. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently lifted Eamon’s head with as much care as she could. The dying man merely whimpered in response.

Bridget untied the strings to the pouch and placed it at Eamon’s mouth. She carefully sprinkled the contents into his mouth and helped him close it. Bridget gently massaged his throat to coax the Ashes down.

The room went completely still as everyone held their breath. Bridget drew her brows together as her heart began to race. So much hung in the balance and depended on the Ashes working…if they did not, she didn’t even want to imagine the consequences all of Ferelden would face.

For a long moment, Eamon just lay there. Bridget wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing until he took a deep, gasping breath and slowly opened his bleary eyes. Eamon blinked several times as he continued to take large, gulping breaths and then his eyes fell on Bridget.

“El…El…Ellie…?” he barely whispered.

Before Bridget could respond, Isolde ran to Eamon and threw herself across Bridget to sob onto his chest. Bridget scrambled out of the way as Isolde placed several kisses all over Eamon’s face and wept as she praised the Maker.

“Perhaps we should give them a moment,” Teagan suggested.

Bridget nodded and backed away from the bed and left the room, pondering what Eamon had said. It sounded like someone’s name. Ellie? Who was that? And had Bridget even heard him correctly? His voice was so thick with phlegm, it was quite possible she misheard him completely.

As Teagan closed the door behind them, he cast a look at Bridget and Alistair.

“Why don’t we see if your rooms are ready, that way Eamon has some time to recover without being surrounded by so many faces at one time,” he stated.

Bridget and Alistair agreed that that was best. They reunited with their friends who eagerly wished to hear the outcome, and all released a collective sigh of relief upon hearing that Eamon had, indeed, awakened. Bridget and her friends were shown their rooms where hot baths had been drawn for them. Later, once everyone was bathed and dressed in finer clothes, they reconvened in the main hall where Eamon stood in front of the large fireplace.

Bridget curtsied gracefully as the others bowed and curtsied respectfully before him. Bridget looked up at him after a moment and took Eamon in. The pallid color had completely disappeared from his face, though he still looked tired around his eyes. He leaned against an ornate cane for support, but stood proudly before them. He was clad in a deep velvet tunic and black breeches with brown leather boots to match. Regal, intimidating, this was a man who knew how to play the games at court, Bridget surmised.

Eamon cast his eyes to Bridget and sucked in a breath, unnoticed by the others. Her dress was the color of sunset, a mix of pinks and light orange hues, the cuffs and square neckline threaded with gold embroidery. Her golden hair was wavy with a half braid that stretched from the side of her head towards the back. It was remarkable, truly, how much she looked like…

Eamon blinked and shook his head. Bridget felt the scrutiny of his gaze and tried not to falter under his stare, but wondered why on Thedas he gazed at her so intensely. Eamon looked at everyone around him and bowed his head.

“You have my most sincere and heartfelt thanks, all of you. Truly I…I know that bed would have been my final resting place had you not found the Ashes. You have my gratitude. But now, tell me, what has transpired while I was indisposed?”

Bridget and the others took their time explaining everything that had happened while Eamon was on his deathbed. Afterwards, Eamon ran a hand down his beard and sighed.

“I knew that Loghain was an ambitious man but this…funny how ambition can so easily turn into madness. Very well. We must not tarry another moment. We will feast tonight and rest but tomorrow at dawn, we ride for Denerim. I will call a Landsmeet and we will confront Loghain with all the nobility in Ferelden to bear witness,” he declared.

Everyone murmured in agreement. Eamon led his guests into the main hall where a large feast had already been laid about the table. Bridget felt her stomach growl as the roasted chickens, potatoes, breads, and gravy made her mouth water. Alistair, ever the gentleman, pulled her seat out for her. Bridget thanked him and their eyes lingered on each other long enough for Eamon to notice.

Alistair took his seat next to Bridget’s as the other companions began to pile in. Eamon took his seat at the head of the table with Teagan on his right and Bridget seated on his left. Isolde sat at the other end of the long table, her eyes puffy from all the tears of happiness she had wept earlier.

At Eamon’s behest, everyone began to fill their plates. He cast his gaze back to Bridget as she helped herself to some mashed potatoes and poured gravy over them. She seemed delicate, though Eamon knew those were skilled, calloused hands that held that gravy bowl hardened by years of training. He let his eyes trail along the curve of her face, down her nose and to her plump lips. It was only when her eyes met his that the illusion disappeared and Eamon tore his gaze away.

“You are Bryce Cousland’s youngest, are you not?” Eamon asked as he began to cut into his meat.

Bridget nodded as she took a sip of wine from her goblet.

“Indeed, sir,” she replied.

Eamon glanced back to her when her eyes dropped to her plate and inclined his head.

“You have his eyes,” he remarked.

Bridget smiled sadly.

“Yes, the only thing I inherited from him, other than my quick wit and a touch of his stubbornness. Everything else I received from my mother, I apparently look just as she did when she was my age, or so I was told.”

Eamon didn’t respond, but simply stared at Bridget instead. Bridget met his gaze and tried not to let the intensity of his eyes bother her…but she couldn’t help but feel as if Eamon were glaring at her. Bridget opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when Eamon glanced at Alistair.

“You’ve certainly grown since the last time I saw you, my boy. How are you holding up amidst all this?” he asked.

Alistair bit into a roll and chewed a moment before he replied,

“Fairing as well as any of us could be with a mad man leading the country and Darkspawn breathing down our necks. I’m just grateful that Bridget found the Urn for you, Arl Eamon. Now we can begin to set things right.”

Eamon nodded.

“Indeed,” he murmured before taking a long draw from his goblet.

As the meal continued on, some minstrels from the village stopped by to play for everyone. Soon, the companions had full bellies and the headiness of the wine began to slip comfortably into them as they allowed themselves to relax and enjoy the moment. Bridget danced with Alistair and Zevran while Leliana joined the other bards and sang songs of happiness and hope.

Eamon continued to glare at Bridget, unbeknownst to her as she laughed and danced happily with Alistair. He studied them, the way Alistair securely placed his hands on her hips, how he looked at her like a lovesick puppy. Eamon furrowed his brow and turned to Teagan, who also looked equally as enraptured in watching the couple dance. Isolde had long since excused herself, once again stating that she had to give thanks for the Maker. Eamon frowned as he realized his bed would more than likely be very cold that night.

He stood and excused himself. Teagan made to follow him, but Eamon shook his head, told him to remain for the festivities, and left the room, realizing he did not need the help of the cane as much as he had earlier.

Knowing that Isolde would not be waiting for him in their bedchamber, Eamon decided to walk around his castle and take in every groove in the stone, note every cobweb in the dark, hard to reach corners of the halls. This had almost been taken from him, all of it. And for what? Because Loghain was dead set on going to war with an allied country? Eamon ran a hand down his face and shook his head. He understood grudges all too well…but this was ridiculous and Loghain had lost all his senses.

Eamon continued to mull about his thoughts as he made his rounds throughout his castle. After a while, he decided he wanted to head back to his room and try to get some sleep for the journey ahead. As he began to descend the staircase that led to the more forgotten rooms of the castle, Eamon paused as he heard hushed voices and a…giggle?

Eamon peered out from the shadows and saw Alistair and Bridget approaching one of the spare rooms. Alistair spun her as he hummed the continuation of the tune that was no doubt being played by the minstrels below. Bridget laughed again, light and airy and Eamon closed his eyes at the sound, remembering it all too well.

He continued to observe as Alistair rested his body against Bridget’s, confining her to the wall. She looked up at him and grinned as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I may be just ever so slightly drunk,” he confessed with a hiccup.

Bridget laughed again and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hmm…I believe I indulged a little too much myself,” she admitted.

Alistair tipped his head to the side.

“Would you like to indulge a little further?” he asked before he placed his lips to her neck.

Bridget let her eyes flutter close and smiled as she ran her hands through his hair.

“Do you even have to ask?”

Alistair pulled his lips away from Bridget’s neck and found her plump lips waiting for him. They kissed each other soundly. Alistair gripped Bridget’s hips in his hands as she turned her head to deepen the kiss. Alistair trailed a hand to her breast and kneaded it through the velvety soft fabric of her dress. Bridget moaned softly into Alistair’s mouth and when they broke their kiss to take a breath of air, she whispered,

“Take me?”

Alistair grinned and reached for the handle to the door.

“Always,” he replied.

Eamon watched carefully as the two lovers disappeared behind the door and closed it quickly behind them. He sneakily descended the rest of the steps and deftly made his way closer to the door. Eamon could hear the sound of pleasured sighs and moans and discarded belts and clothing falling to the floor. He frowned disapprovingly as he quietly walked past the room and made his way to the library, suddenly not tired and in need of something to distract him from what he’d just witnessed.

xXx

Teagan sat quietly in the library with a glass of wine and a book. He had left the festivities not long after Alistair had followed Bridget out and each of her friends followed suit. Like most nights, however, he found he could not sleep until he had spent some time in the company of a good book. He sat by the large fireplace, reading intently when he heard the door to the library open. Teagan looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows as Eamon entered the room.

“Brother? I’m surprised you are not with Isolde,” Teagan noted.

Eamon rolled his eyes as he sat across from his younger brother and poured himself a glass of wine.

“Please, you know how she is. She’ll be on her knees for weeks praising the Maker before she’ll even think about getting on her knees for me,” he replied dryly.

Teagan cleared his throat, albeit a little awkwardly, and closed his book.

“How are you feeling, Eamon? Truly?”

Eamon looked down at the red wine in his goblet and swirled it as he thought for a moment.

“Angry, furious at many things. I’m angry with Isolde for not telling me about Connor’s…abilities. Her misjudgement on the entire situation is what brought that wretched blood mage to us in the first place,” he replied bitterly.

Teagan frowned.

“Try not to be upset with her, brother. As a mother, she assumed she was doing what was best for her child. She didn’t consider the consequences of her actions–”

“Obviously,” Eamon interrupted.

The fire crackled for a moment in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the room. Eamon sighed.

“I need a distraction…care for a game of chess?”

Tegan lifted his brows.

“Am I one to ever turn down a challenge? I’ll prepare the board!”

Eamon took another draw from his goblet as Teagan set up the ornate wooden chess board. It had been a gift from their sister many years ago. Once the board was set, Eamon contemplated his first move before he pushed a pawn two spaces forwards.

“So…do you know much about Bryce’s daughter?’ he asked casually.

Teagan stiffened slightly at the frostiness that coated Eamon’s question.

“Personally? No…unfortunately I have not had very many interactions with her. But she is a kind soul with a good heart. Not only has she saved Redcliffe, our family, you…she’s saved countless others along her journey as well. To overcome such heartache that befell her and still have the strength to endure, to survive…she’s a remarkable young woman,” Teagan explained.

Eamon furrowed his brow, noted Teagan’s move on the board, and moved another chess piece forward.

“What heartache?” he asked.

Tegan flicked his eyes at Eamon’s and then frowned deeply as he drew his brows together.

“Oh…shit…this happened after Jowan had poisoned you so you had not heard…Maker, so many terrible things happened at once, I had forgotten you were not able to be made aware–”

“Out with it, Teagan!” Eamon demanded impatiently.

Teagan sighed and shook his head.

“Bridget’s family…all of the Couslands…they perished. Arl Howe turned traitor against them, aligned himself with Loghain and destroyed the Cousland family out of greed and mad ambition.”

Eamon had gone pale.

“You mean…Eleanor…?”

Teagan nodded sadly.

“All of them, even the babe, Oren,” Teagan added in an anguished whisper.

Eamon was quiet for a moment as he processed this grave news. A lump had formed in the back of his throat and tears stung at his eyes as he took a breath and closed his eyes, remembering golden hair falling around his face and stolen, secret, summertime kisses beneath a whispering willow tree.

“And how did Bridget survive?” he asked quietly.

Teagan took a sip of wine as he leaned forward and took one of Eamon’s knights.

“The Grey Warden, Duncan saved her. They fled her castle and he brought her to Ostagar, where she met Alistair,” Teagan explained.

Eamon clenched his fists.

“So…she left her, them to die then?” he whispered.

Teagan shot Eamon a dirty look.

“That is unfair, brother, and you know it. I’m sure she did not have a choice in the matter. Let us be grateful that she was indeed spared, lest you would not be here sitting in front of me now and Connor would have been devoured by the demon that ensnared him!”

Eamon released an agitated sigh and ran his hand down his beard in contemplation. A mystery it was to him that Bridget could save everyone else around her but that of her own family. He did not voice his opinion to Teagan, however, as he didn’t care to be lectured by his younger brother on the matter. Instead, he turned the conversation to a more interesting topic.

“So…how long have she and Alistair been fucking?” he asked simply.

Teagan choked on his sip of wine and coughed before he cleared his throat and asked,

“What?”

Eamon raised his brows as he brought his own goblet to his lips as he captured one of Teagan’s bishops.

“Oh? Were you not aware? I caught them nearly devouring each other in the hall before they slipped into a room making the unholiest of noises,” he quipped.

Eamon studied Teagan’s reaction carefully. His younger brother looked a little crestfallen, to be sure, but did his best to recover quickly at this new information.

“Well…they are young and have been through a considerable amount of tragedy and destruction and death amongst many other things. I suppose it was only natural that they would be drawn to each other. Yet fancy that, amidst all the despair, something beautiful came from it.”

Eamon tipped his head to the side.

“And yet you don’t look all too thrilled for the young lovers,” he noted.

Teagan eyed his brother suspiciously.

“I find Lady Cousland to be a very capable young woman, Eamon. Perhaps if things were different I may have tried to win her heart but, I would not have come to stand between her and Alistair. It is a good match, you know.”

Eamon narrowed his eyes.

“Do elaborate,” he stated.

Teagan drew his brows together as he contemplated his next move on the board.

“Surely you intend to put Alistair on the throne? He is of the understanding that you will claim it for yourself, but you and I both know that that will not work. Not when his birthright is revealed.”

Eamon swirled his wine and downed the last of it before he poured another glass.

“I had no intention of taking the throne for myself. Alistair is our trump card, our ace. No one is aware of his lineage save for us and I’m assuming the Cousland girl. He will make a fine king,”

Teagan sighed.

“Of that, I am not so sure. He’s very young. A union between him and Bridget would be ideal so that he would have a strong queen beside him, behind him, encouraging him and leading him and this country to glory.”

Eamon frowned as Teagan continued.

“As much as you would not like to hear this, she is her father’s daughter, Eamon. She has all of Eleanor’s beauty and grace, her stubbornness and cleverness no doubt, but she grew up in that war room with Bryce, listening, learning. Alistair cannot do this alone but imagine what great heights they could accomplish together?”

Eamon took another long draw from his glass as he surveyed the chess board before him.

“And if they are already in love…then that makes the union that much sweeter.”

Eamon waved his hand in the air and dismissed the topic altogether.

“First and foremost, we must make it to Denerim and call the Landsmeet. Surely there is some kind of evidence that we can use against Loghain, actual physical evidence other than just words alone. I do not know how many he has swayed to his side with that silver tongue of his or if they simply follow him out of fear. This may be more difficult than we thought.”

Teagan sighed and nodded.

“Surely once we arrive in Denerim, we will find out more information and can gain the nobility on our side. There are many who are not happy with Loghain, especially the Banns who have lost their lands to the Darkspawn.”

Eamon stood as he checkmated Teagan and downed the rest of his wine.

“Then we should prepare ourselves for battle not only physically, but mentally as well. Loghain is wily, he will not step down easily. There will be bloodshed, I fear.”

Teagan took a minute to study the board and determined how he lost before he stood as well.

“Let us pray that it will not come to that,” he murmured softly.

xXx

Bridget played with Alistair’s hair as he rested his head against her bosom, sighing happily as he took solace in the beating of her heart. They had not felt this content in some time, with such full bellies and comforting surroundings. Alistair squeezed her tightly to him as she took in a breath.

“Did you notice how Eamon kept staring at me tonight?” she asked softly.

Alistair lifted his head and looked at his love. He grinned sheepishly and cupped the side of her face.

“Why wouldn’t he stare at you, love? You’re utterly gorgeous!”

Bridget placed her hand on top of Alistair’s and drew her brows together.

“I’m being serious, I feel like he was glaring at me for some reason, but I don’t know what I could have possibly done to offend him?”

Alistair shook his head and shrugged.

“I didn’t notice anything, however, the man did just come back from Death’s Door. Maybe he’s just cranky and didn’t feel like entertaining a group of vagabonds like us?”

Bridget became pensive and grew quiet as they switched positions and she laid her head against Alistair’s chest as he wrapped a strong arm around her and pulled her close.

“What do you think will happen at the Landsmeet?” she inquired.

Alistair grew still.

“I don’t know…I don’t want to think about it until we have to,” he admitted.

Bridget lifted her head to look at him.

“Do you think Eamon will want you to be king?” she asked.

Alistair shook his head.

“I already told you, that’s not what I want,” he began, but Bridget cut him off.

“It won’t matter what you want, Alistair, if Eamon reveals to the nobles your birthright. Blood will outweigh any words or other claim anyone else could possibly have or say.”

Alistair grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“Well, nothing’s been said to me about it yet so again, I will worry about it when the time comes.”

Bridget frowned.

“Alistair, this isn’t something that you can run away from,”

Alistair sighed and sat straight up.

“I’m not running away from anything, Bridget. Look, can we please just drop it for now? I’d like to enjoy sleeping in an actual bed for once cuddled up next to you on a nice, plush mattress instead of on rocks and dirt, is that too much to ask?”

Bridget pursed her lips together as she felt her temper rising, but the pleading look on Alistair’s face made her release a huff of breath and lay back.

“Fine.” she replied sharply.

Alistair tipped his head to the side.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’ll make it worth your while…” he teased as he slipped beneath the covers and began placing kisses all over her abdomen, trailing them lower.

Despite her willingness to argue her point, Bridget decided she didn’t want to waste her energy on that and instead decided to spend what little energy she had left writhing in pleasure as Alistair’s tongue worked her until she was completely and utterly spent.

As the candles died out and the embers in the fireplace began to burn away, Bridget took a deep breath as Alistair snored softly next to her. She stared up into the ceiling above and couldn’t shake a wary feeling that had crept it’s way into her gut.

“I feel as if this is all but a gentle dream, the time we spend together, and that soon I will awaken and there will be nothing left behind but tears and heartache…”

Bridget hoped that this feeling was wrong, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw and felt Eamon’s cold stare and wondered what it could spell for her future, as well as Alistair's.

xXx

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

An Unexpected Ally

Firstfall, 9:30 Dragon

Denerim

Three weeks. Three agonizing weeks had passed since Cauthrien last saw Anora. She could remember nothing of the fond memories she shared with her lover, only that of her being taken away by Howe’s men. Ever the queen, she had walked away with dignity and an air of superiority, but Cauthrien knew that deep down, Anora was terrified. Howe . Poison incarnate. The long, seemingly never ending days gave her plenty of time to think. The one thought that took most precedence in her mind was exactly when Loghain had lost his mind. To erase all that he had accomplished in his life would be a discredit to him, insane as he was now, he was indeed a great man at one time; a renowned hero. Had Howe corrupted him with his own greed, or had Loghain already lost sight of what was most important before he aligned himself with that worm?

Cauthrien was exhausted. Playing Loghain’s right hand while also keeping her ear towards the wind of any news regarding Arl Eamon and the Wardens was beginning to take its toll. She wasn’t sleeping, she had to force herself to eat and keep her strength up. She was so wrought with worry though, that even the most mundane tasks were taking a considerable amount of effort. 

As she made her rounds one morning outside of the castle, Cauthrien rubbed her hands together and blew into them. Even with gloves, the biting chill of Firstfall was difficult to escape. Idle chatter from some of the other guards filled the air, though nothing of note was said, not until she rounded a corner and caught two rather young soldiers immediately stop talking when she came into view. 

Cauthrien paused and eyed them suspiciously. 

“Everything alright?” she asked. 

The two, practically children, soldiers nodded, but looked guilty. 

“Y-Yes ma’am,” they replied in unison nervously. 

When Cauthrien didn’t look convinced, the darker haired soldier let his shoulders slump. 

“We’d just heard some news is all,” he confessed.

Cauthrien kept her face neutral, but allowed herself to hope. 

“And what news is that?” she asked casually. 

The two boys looked at each other again. Cauthrien guessed they were attempting to formulate a lie. She leaned in closer to them. 

“It would do you well to remain as truthful as possible when speaking to me, as I have the Regent’s  ear on my side,” she stated. 

A frightened glance passed between them before the other boy let out a breath. 

“Arl Eamon’s in the city,” he said quickly, “Just arrived some two days ago,” the other boy finished.”

Cauthrien kept her face a calm expression of boredom, but inside, she was absolutely elated. She had to act quickly on this, for she was unsure if Loghain was aware. If he was not, he would be soon, and she would rather be the one to break the news to him and formulate a new plan versus him hearing it from someone else and doing something reckless.      

Cauthrien inclined her head to them. 

“Thank you for informing me. You may be on your way. And…word of caution, try not to look so obvious when discussing matters that could directly involve the Regent. Others are not as lenient as I,” she stated. 

The young men nodded and hurried away, heeding Cauthrien’s warning. Immediately, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the nearest entrance to confront Loghain with this news. 

If she knew him, and Cauthrien could confidently say that she knew Loghain fairly well, he would want to show up at Eamon’s estate unannounced, thinking he had the air of surprise. Insane he may be but the former hero of Riverdane was not stupid. Cauthrien knew time was precious and this was the only way she could leave the castle without any of his shadows following her. 

It had not taken her long to notice. After their last encounter after Anora was taken, Loghain either had suspicions or was being overly cautious regarding Cauthrien’s allegiance. That’s when his shadows came. Assassins, Cauthrien presumed, or rogues of some type that followed her wherever she went, just out of reach and eyesight, or so they believed. But Cauthrien knew they were there, she could sense them.

In the weeks that followed, she had to do things that she regretted, terrible, awful things in order to keep up her guise and not alert him. Loghain could not suspect that her allegiance to him was no more. If he had even the slightest inclination, Cauthrien knew she would never see Anora again. So, she did what she had to, despite the horrid nature of what he asked of her, in order to ensure her safety. 

As Cauthrien knocked gently on the door to his office and let herself in at the gruff command, she took a deep breath as she laid all her cards on the table. She prayed to the Maker that fate would deal her a winning hand. 

“Your Excellency,” Cauthrien stated as she bent her knee and bowed deeply before Loghain. 

Loghain eyed her and lifted his hand lazily for her to stand. Cauthrien did so. 

“What news do you bring? I can tell you have something to say,” he stated. 

Cauthrien placed her hands behind her back and informed Loghain of Eamon’s arrival to the city. He reacted with as much venom as she had anticipated, and she carefully dodged the silver chalice that Loghain had hurled into the air in his rage.  She let him have his moment of sputtering curses and continuing to throw objects of no worth around the room. Let him have his temper tantrum and exhaust himself before she revealed her plan.  Once Loghain calmed down and sat behind his desk, he downed a decanter of wine and barked at the nearby elven servant for another. 

“How? He was supposed to be dead ,” Loghain snarled. 

Cauthrien lifted her chin. She did her best to fan the flames of his perceived ‘greatness’. Throw compliments at him and he was more inclined to listen to what she had to say. 

“Your plan was carefully thought out and executed amazingly, my Lord. It is only due to the meddling of others that it did not reach its full potential,” she explained. 

Loghain nodded and narrowed his eyes. 

“The Cousland bitch, no doubt. Curse Howe…he should have been more thorough . How do you let the one person who is capable of dismantling everything I have worked so hard for slip away!”

Cauthrien could see anger rising in Loghain’s eyes once more, like a terrible storm, and did her best to calm him down. 

“Indeed, he should have been more careful, more considerate. I have a proposal, if I may be so bold as to suggest how we may deal with this,” Cauthrien said slowly. 

Loghain narrowed his eyes intently. 

“Go on,” he replied. 

Cauthrien bent to her knee again and looked Loghain in the eye. 

“Allow me to be your poison, my liege. I will infiltrate Eamon’s estate disguised as an ally, I will whisper ugly lies into their ears, make them believe that you have lost your good sense, and plead that they rescue the queen. Whilst at Howe’s estate, I can lead them into an ambush. We can cart the lot of them off to Fort Drakon and let Natas do what he does best…you would not have to lift a finger and can keep your focus on our true enemy, Orlais.” 

Cauthrien noted the gleam in Loghain’s eye as he leaned forward. He smirked. 

“I’ve taught you well. See to it that it’s done.” he commanded. 

Cauthrien did not let her emotion betray her as she crossed an arm over her chest and bowed her head. 

“Your will, Excellency,” she replied as she backed out of the room. 

As Cauthrien left the castle, she noticed the shadows were gone. She had Loghain’s trust in full. And she intended to use it to her advantage. 

xXx

The three weeks it took to travel from Redcliffe to Denerim were some of the most difficult weeks Bridget had endured yet. Eamon was eager to get to the capitol as quickly as possible, which meant little rest or stops along the way. By the time they had made it to Southreach, Bridget was convinced that Pandora was going to collapse with exhaustion, and it pained her to turn her reins over to the stableboy and switch to another horse for the remainder of the journey. 

The days were long, but the nights seemed even longer. Conversation was minimal and only focused on Eamon’s plans once they had arrived at the state. If Teagan had charted everything correctly, they would arrive in Denerim under the cover of night. Exactly how Eamon preferred as he wanted his presence in the city to be kept a secret for as long as possible. 

Bridget and Alistair had to keep a separate tent and could barely even speak to each other as one had to be on guard at all times to ensure there were no surprise attacks from the Darkspawn. Zevran, too, began to grow unsteady as the presence of the Crows grew ever more noticeable the closer they traveled to Denerim. 

“A reckoning is coming,” he had told Bridget one early morning as she bent by the river to wash the bowls and utensils they had dirtied at breakfast. 

Bridget had looked up at her friend and frowned at the worry that creased his handsome face. She stood and placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m with you, Zev. I’ll not allow you to face them alone,” she promised. 

Zevran cast his deep brown eyes to her and nodded as he placed his hand atop hers.