There and Back Again Ch. 168

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Eight: Guilt Trips

The pyre for George, the templar whose real name had been Patrick, was up on the roof of the tower that night. All of the wardens – including the newly Joined ones who were still recovering – came; Fred had to be carried. My tear ducts had finally sorted themselves out, and I cried openly. It wasn't the first death I'd seen from a Joining, but it was the first time it had been someone I knew. I'd relied on Avernus' improved potion to prevent it – but he'd never promised no one would die. Just fewer.

I hadn't spoken to Fred yet; I was afraid, quite honestly. I hadn't wanted to be there when he found out that not only was he sick, but his best friend was dead. I felt responsible, though I wasn't even – technically – a Warden. I dreaded seeing the pain in his eyes.

I wasn't the only one upset, I knew; Aedan had barely spoken since the rest of the new Wardens had been carried to their rooms, and Alistair held me just a bit too tightly while I cried. Will this be our life, now? Like Duncan, trying not to get to know the recruits, because we'll lose some of them? The thought hurt.

After the pyre had burned down, Aedan, Zevran, Alistair, and I collapsed into the sitting room in our quarters, huddling together for comfort. Even Zev, who regarded death with a sort of amused disdain most days, was quiet. All of us were aware that it could have been us; we all shared a sense of guilt, misplaced though it was.

The next day I worked up the courage to go see Fred; I felt guilty for the relief I experienced knowing someone else had had to tell him the news. He was alone when I got there. Aedan and Alistair had been to see him already, and from what I'd heard he'd had a steady stream of visitors, including the other new Wardens. I knocked quietly, not wanting to disturb him, almost hoping to find he was asleep, but he answered my knock right away.

I crept inside and sat in the chair he indicated with a casual wave.

"Hi." My voice cracked a little, and I cleared my throat, embarrassed.

"Hi." His tone was listless, and he didn't quite meet my eyes. He was interrupted before he could say anything else with a coughing fit that made my chest ache just hearing it.

"I won't ask how you're feeling." I looked down. "Listen, Fred—"

"No."

"Pardon?" I glanced up to see him glowering at me.

"My name isn't Fred. Maybe that was cute when there were two of us and we were a matched set – what was it you said? They were twins, right, your fictional Fred and George? Well, it's not cute anymore. My name is Daniel."

I nodded sadly. "Fair enough. I'm sorry, Daniel. I don't have anything clever to say. I can't make it better. I am sorry that this happened – that you're sick, and that he didn't survive."

I was greeted with silence. I reached out and gripped his hand lightly, then stood. "If I could change it...well. If there's some way I can help, just let me know, alright?"

I stepped outside and turned to close the door before he spoke. "Thank you for not offering useless platitudes."

I nodded and closed the door. Outside, looking oddly uncomfortable in a simple peasant dress, stood Lana, the Tranquil. She held a covered tray from the kitchen. Aedan had told me she'd been trying to help care for Daniel since she'd woken, to everyone's surprise.

"Lana? How are you feeling?"

"My physical condition is adequate." Her expression didn't change.

"No ill effects from the Joining?"

She twitched, a look I couldn't interpret flitting across her face, before she took a breath and forced it away. "Nothing unexpected."

I looked at Daniel's closed door, back at the beautiful woman with the white starburst on her forehead, and then down the hall at the guard who was waiting for me. "Could we talk? In private?"

"I do not require privacy, your Highness."

I winced. "Sierra, remember?" When she didn't respond, I sighed. "Well, I require privacy. I can see that you're busy, though. When you have a few minutes, would you come by my office? Please?"

She nodded. "As you wish. Sierra."

I left her there and went to start on the day's stack of paperwork.

An hour or so later, there was a knock on my door, and I looked up to see Lana hovering in the hallway. I got up and ushered her in, closing the thick wooden door behind her. I offered her a chair by the hearth, and took the one next to it.

"You wished to see me?"

I nodded. "You know that I know about the Grey Wardens, right? I know the secrets."

"Yes."

"So tell me, how has it been for you? Being recruited, going into the Deep Roads, taking the Joining?"

She hesitated.

"You can be honest. I won't get you in trouble if you tell me you hate it, or something."

"The Deep Roads are...unpleasant." She frowned, but the expression looked mechanical – like she'd practiced it in the mirror, not like she actually felt the emotion of it.

"Yes. Not my favourite place either."

"The maps I made should prove useful."

"Right..." This is not what I am looking for. "And the Joining?" If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she was upset about something to do with the Joining earlier.

"I..." That same expression crossed her face – confusion, maybe? – but then disappeared again. "It was unfortunate."

"Patrick, you mean. And Daniel's illness."

"Yes."

"But how was it for you?"

Lana stood abruptly. "I have work to do in the library."

I stood too, careful not to be between her and the door – I didn't want her to feel threatened or trapped, if she was even capable of that sort of emotion. "Lana? What happened to you during the Joining?"

She looked from me to the door, then seemed to crumple into herself. "I dreamed."

"About darkspawn?" She nodded, and sat when I gestured at her chair. "That's quite common. Did you see an Archdemon? A dragon?" She shook her head mutely. I sat beside her. "Then what? What's wrong?"

"Tranquil don't dream."

"Ah. Yes, that must have been disconcerting. How long...?"

"I requested the rite when I was sixteen." I raised my eyebrows, surprised. I'd heard some mages requested to be made Tranquil, but I don't think I believed it. She continued, "I have not dreamt in ten years."

"You know that it doesn't mean your connection with the Fade has been restored, though, right? At least from what I can tell, darkspawn dreams aren't normal dreams. Dwarves get them too. It's your mind interpreting what it hears from the darkspawn hive-mind. They're annoying, but not dangerous. No demons."

She examined my face for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. "I did not know that."

"Can I ask you something?" She nodded again. "Why did you want to be made Tranquil?"

"I was being pursued by demons. I did not believe I would be able to resist."

"Aren't all mages—"

"Some more than others," she interrupted. "I believe I may have been what was once called a somniari. I experienced difficulties determining what was real, and what was a dream. It was hard to wake up. The demons pursued me even when I was awake. Rather than become possessed, I requested the Rite of Tranquility." Her tone was so emotionless it made the words even creepier than they would have been otherwise.

I tried to hide the shock and horror I felt. "And was it the right choice?" I couldn't help but think about poor Feynriel; I wondered how well he learned to control his abilities in Tevinter.

"I did not wish to become possessed."

"Yes but...tell me, Lana. If there was some way for your abilities to have been trained so that you weren't in danger – or not more than any other mage, say – would you still have asked to be made Tranquil?"

"I do not know. I remember the dreams, but I cannot feel the emotions I experienced then. I was irrational. I do not know what I would have chosen."

"What about now? What if Tranquility could be reversed?"

"That is not possible. The question is irrelevant."

"Actually...well, just humour me. If you could reverse your Tranquility, would you? Assuming your abilities could be trained so that you were safe."

She sat quietly for a moment. "No," she finally replied. "I am content with my existence. It is familiar. And I am safe, here, with the Wardens."

"Which implies you weren't, at the Circle."

"I would prefer not to discuss my time at the Circle."

"Okay. That's fair. But Lana...will you think about it? Think about telling someone what happened to you in the Circle so we can stop it from happening to anyone else, and think about whether you would like to have your Tranquility cured? I assure you, the question isn't at all irrelevant."

She agreed, still looking quite uncomfortable, and took her leave to head to the library and the solitude of the books waiting for her there.

It took a few days for the mood around the Peak to recover; everyone, including Patrick, had known the risk of the Joining, and while we would miss him, the world didn't stop because he was gone. Daniel continued to recover, with help from Wynne and Donall, but he wasn't the same person anymore. He'd never been exactly jolly, but he was clearly bitter in the aftermath of Patrick's death, not that I could blame him. The only person who didn't suffer from his new, irritable demeanor was Lana; he went out of his way to stay polite and calm around her, and she seemed to spend much of her spare time in his room, just reading quietly and making sure he wasn't alone – and he didn't have the heart to send her away.

When he was physically well enough, he took to sparring again – and training Lana himself in hand-to-hand combat. Everyone was surprised – though he'd never shown signs of being abusive, a templar working closely with a Tranquil seemed quite unusual – and I knew almost everyone had taken pains to check in with Lana that she was fine, and to watch over them while they were together. It was sweet, but sort of funny – it got to the point that the Tranquil woman started denying abuse to everyone who approached her, even if they had been about to ask something completely different. I hoped that, if she was capable of feeling it, she'd have appreciated it.

Dougall arrived at the Peak shortly thereafter. He allowed me a fond hug when I first saw him, and greeted the others with broad smiles. He was appropriately impressed with the Keep when we showed him around, making all the right appreciative noises – and then we all quietly withdrew to allow him to reunite with Wynne in some semblance of privacy. I had no doubt, however, that the entire Keep would know which room he slept in before morning.

It was Wynne's. Shocking.

Dougal stayed only a few days; he seemed reluctant to go, but had promised his Warden Commander to get Seranni to Weisshaupt as quickly as possible. I was still anxious about the three of them travelling alone – though none of them was helpless, I knew – but Seranni had made up her mind, and I wouldn't disrespect her by doubting it. Her sacrifice could save me scrutiny that I didn't want, after all. I sparred with her a couple of times before they left; she'd improved dramatically since the last time. Trial by fire; that should be the Fereldan Warden motto.

I was sad to see them go; there were always so few women around, and they seemed to keep leaving – first Morrigan, and then Wynne, Leliana, Solona...and now Velanna and Seranni. It seemed I was destined to stay surrounded by men. Seranni promised to write – though whether her letters would ever be delivered from Weisshaupt was debatable – and Dougal promised to come back after he'd dropped them off, to say goodbye. He didn't say anything, but I wondered if he planned it as his last goodbye – I was sure his Calling couldn't be that far off. I made a mental note to ensure Aedan had pulled Conrad back from Denerim by then.

Wynne left a few days later with Shale and Caridin; she was planning to accompany them – and the large group of golems they'd rescued from inactivity in the Deep Roads – to Orzammar to begin work on golem sentience, as she'd promised. I had to admit, she was one of the few travelling who I didn't have to worry about – the golems were perfectly controlled by Caridin, so it was like she was travelling with an army of their own. I knew they'd keep her safe.

Faren's physical recovery was impressive; between sparring daily with the soldiers and other Wardens, exercising like mad – it wasn't uncommon to see him racing up the tower stairs two and three at a time, or running across the open bridge between the tower and keep multiple times per day – he was back at his fighting peak in a surprisingly short period of time.

Unfortunately, his memory remained problematic. He would dream, but forget what he'd dreamt about as soon as he woke, or remember fragments that he couldn't place – all of which left him confused, and often irritable. He'd had to re-memorize names and faces, struggling to determine who he'd known well, who was new to him, and who he'd disliked. He had difficulty relating to Bel and Oghren, forgetting the time that had passed in which they'd transitioned from 'casteless and warrior caste' to just friends. Stories could only take him so far; without the emotion behind them, he didn't trust people the way he had before. He wasn't the leader he'd been before being poisoned.

And while he was careful never to blame me, it was never far from my mind that it was my fault. If I'd been able to hold out a little longer – just a few hours – we'd have been rescued and he'd have been fine. It meant our interactions were awkward too, despite me being one of the few people he seemed to feel comfortable with.

All of that came as no surprise; what did surprise me a little was his immediate friendship with Sigrun. It probably helped that he was meeting her for the first time; they had no past relationship that he'd forgotten while she took it for granted. But I wondered if there was more to it – if perhaps Sigrun was right, and the sensation of the taint indicated the person a Warden would fall in love with. Maybe Sigrun felt as warm and sunny to him as Alistair did to me.

It was clear that he was also confused by it; I often overheard conversations between them where Faren tried to think of some way he might have known Sigrun before his disastrous combat at the Proving Grounds. He recalled the name of every Carta member he'd known, every Casteless, looking for some connection to explain the camaraderie they clearly shared. Her answer was always no, but he kept trying, convinced he must be missing some reason he felt closer to her than he'd expected to.

And Sigrun was enjoying it, basking in his friendship as though that was all she'd hoped for. She was a better actress than I was, for certain – I could never have covered up how I felt about Alistair for so long. The only reason my husband hadn't picked it up much earlier in our history was his own obliviousness; Sigrun actually hid it quite well, and no one who met them for the first time would have guessed that the pretty, perky dwarf was in love with the burly, cranky one.

Watching them spar was amazing: the two fought together like they'd been trained side-by-side since childhood. And when paired together in the larger squad-based sessions Aedan had the Wardens practicing, it was like the same brain controlled both of them. They were unbeatable, much in the same way Aedan and Zevran worked together so seamlessly. It was actually fun to watch – and I won no few bets when Oghren started taking book on the outcomes.

But I knew it hadn't progressed to romance between the two, if for no other reason than Sigrun still blushed a nearly fluorescent red any time someone teased her about it. She practically ran away from anyone who mentioned Faren and romance in the same sentence, and I'd had no luck pinning her down in private, either, much to my amusement. I wondered if she'd ever get brave enough to say anything. I supposed it wasn't that surprising – better to be friends and leave the door open for him to approach her, than have him reject her advances and ruin the friendship.

I got shipments of sovereigns from Orzammar for my bola launchers – the smith had developed several new ideas from the original, and had kindly given me a smaller cut for those sales as well, including a hand-carried bola launcher used for hunting, and versions that could be mounted and fired by guards or even remotely for security at castles or estates around Thedas. They became popular because they didn't kill the target, and allowed would-be burglars to be captured and interrogated. I wasn't sure I was thrilled with that use, though the fact that most of the criminals were turned over for justice instead of executed outright helped with my qualms.

I used the money to decorate and furnish the quarters I shared with Alistair, as well as our personal guest quarters, but also to pay bonuses to my staff, hire myself a personal assistant – a young man from Denerim named Edric, who never smiled but was a whiz with math and accounting – and buy myself a set of 'court clothes' which were all reinforced with leather or chain, despite being fashionable. And the rest I set aside until I could figure out who to talk to about investments.

We also got our budget from the king; it was more than I had feared but less than I hoped for, so it was probably the right compromise. We got cash to pay salaries of the soldiers, staff, and Wardens – including Commanders' salaries and a personal allowance for myself – but most of the rest came in the form of goods and services: metals for the forge, preserved and fresh food shipments, wood, charcoal, furniture, cookware, cloth, blankets, tools...everything we needed to run the Keep, renovate the empty wings, and support the increasing number of people living at Soldier's Keep. And Levi documented and organised all of it, with Edric's help. I was never so grateful for anyone as I was for my Seneschal.

Alistair's birthday – and our anniversary – came and went; we had a party, and although it wasn't a surprise, it was a lot of fun. The tavern was full, he had enough ale to need help to get back to our quarters, and he seemed to appreciate the beautiful drawing kit I ordered for him, with an angled desk and comfortable chair we set up in our sitting room by the window. The lacy, revealing lingerie I'd ordered from Orlais was a hit, and spending most of the day in bed didn't seem to bother him any, either.

For our anniversary, he bought me a set of the softest towels I had ever touched – on Earth or Thedas – and I immediately dragged him into the bath to show him how much I appreciated them.

I had thought everything would settle down after Aedan returned, and at first it did; we began rotating out groups of soldiers from Denerim for training, and the first small group of templars from Kinloch Hold arrived as well. Aedan left again on a recruiting tour, taking just Zevran with him; the two took fast horses and planned to go through the bannorn, up to Amaranthine and Highever, and then come back all within a few weeks. The Wardens, including Alistair, went on several short missions to seal Deep Roads entrances discovered throughout the north of Ferelden. But Alistair spent at most a couple of nights away from home, and we were able to keep in touch using the sending stones.

It turned out sending stone sex and phone sex had a lot of similarities, and were a lot of fun – even though I found it incredibly embarrassing to describe what I was doing and feeling. I could only hope that there was no way for Zevran to be listening in without us knowing, or neither of us would ever stop blushing.

Regular patrol routes were established for Wardens leading small groups of soldiers. Wulf and Conrad sent us a handful of recruits from Denerim, and for my own sanity I avoided getting to know them; Alistair planned a single, larger Joining in a couple of months once we had several recruits ready.