There and Back Again Ch. 099-100

"I have bigger plans for him than a simple death at the end of my sword." His tone was incredibly bitter. "Especially when that would have been followed quickly by my own demise. Loghain will get what is coming to him."

"Karma's a bitch," I muttered.

"Karma?" Alistair asked.

We proceeded to change the subject to an in-depth discussion of non-Christian Earth religions; I didn't know that much, but even the concept of reincarnation was highly inflammatory to some of the group, and the lively debate succeeded at keeping me distracted from my worries for a while longer: where is Aedan?

After the discussion died down, I excused myself and headed to the room I shared with Solona. The others scattered to their respective spaces, and I wondered if everyone was simply tired or if they were fretting as much as I was. Solona accompanied me, looking almost as nervous as I felt; it occurred to me that Anders was in danger, too. I decided girl talk was as likely to be distracting as the rest I'd probably not get if I tried to sleep, so I sat on the bed with my back to the headboard.

"So how are things with Anders, anyway?"

She blushed prettily, sitting beside me carefully. "I don't...know." She shrugged. "Your advice – I'm guessing – to just be there and try to be a silent helper until I let him back in...it's working, sort of. I'm not as angry every time I see him, anyway."

"When he got injured in that darkspawn ambush, you looked not at all angry, and a lot like some other emotion."

She wrung her hands. "Of course. It's not like I just stopped caring about him. But...I don't know. How long am I supposed to be angry? Even if I'm not angry, who's to say it will even work out?"

"I'll tell you what Zev told me – what I'll probably have to remind him of, later. There's not a standard amount of harshness in these sorts of situations. All you can do is what you can live with for right now." I contemplated my answer, but it felt incomplete. "But I have to ask – even if it never works out for the two of you, even if you can't get over your history together...would you be able to live with yourself knowing you didn't even try?"

Her stricken expression answered my question better than anything she could have said. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turned towards me, letting a tear fall down one milky-white cheek. "I don't even know how to start. How do I trust him again?"

I squeezed her shoulder softly. "I've no idea. But maybe that's not the way to begin? Clean slates don't exist. He's going to have to earn it. But he can't, if you never give him the chance."

She nodded and wiped the tear angrily before it dripped off her chin. "What do you suggest?"

I thought about it. "What about...a date?"

"What date?" Solona looked confused.

I grinned. "Dating is something people do on Earth. Two unattached people going out together, doing something, preferably romantic, alone. Like a romantic dinner and then a couple of drinks. Or stargazing. Or...I don't even know. Thedas is a bit of a mystery to me. But spending some time together without everyone else around can't help but be a good thing, right?"

"A date," she muttered. "Your Earth terminology is..."

"Weird? Yeah. But anyway, think about it."

"Assuming he makes it back in one piece."

"Yes, that."

"I'll consider it."

Solona curled up on her side, I assumed to go to sleep – or at least rest, instead of talking – but I was still in full armour. I was interrupted as I contemplated changing and doing the same by a knock on our door.

"My Lady?" came the voice of one of the servants I'd met earlier, "Bann Teagan has requested your presence in the main hall. Her Majesty Queen Anora has arrived."

Chapter One Hundred: Gone awry

Both Solona and I were on our feet in seconds, charging out the door to catch the servant, but he was gone. Alistair's door ripped open just as I hit the hallway, and wordlessly he held out his hand, which I clutched briefly. Solona didn't even slow as she silently raced down the hallway ahead of me. Alistair and I chased her, careening into the main hall a moment later.

There was a crowd of people gathered in the hall, and we had to practically climb over our companions to reach the front. One quick look confirmed that Anora was alone; there was no sign of my brother or any of the others he took with him. Eamon wasn't there, though Teagan stood glaring at the woman with his arms crossed on his chest. Theron, in his full helm, stood to one side. Duncan was nowhere to be seen; we had decided we'd wait and see if Anora knew about him before letting her see him.

Anora wore a poor-fitting guard uniform with what I assumed was the Arl of Denerim's coat of arms – green and white with a many-pointed star – on the front. She had a bit of hat hair, her braids rumpled with individual hairs sticking out, and she had apparently dropped her helm on the floor when no one offered to take it from her. Despite that, she looked somehow haughty and regal, her shoulders back, drawn up to her full height, her nose ever so slightly in the air as though she smelled something bad.

I didn't hear what was being said as I charged up; when Alistair and I reached her, everyone else seemed to stop and hold their breath. I thought Teagan might take charge, but he looked livid, and I doubted he'd be able to speak without breathing fire. No one else seemed to know exactly what to say either, and finally Alistair bowed slightly, the way Duncan often did, and cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty," his voice was remarkably calm, and I eyed him in surprise, "where is the Warden? Where are those who rescued you?"

Theron shifted as Anora's cheeks coloured slightly, whether in anger or embarrassment I couldn't tell.

"Still at Howe's estate, I imagine. But I doubt this is the appropriate place for this discussion, wouldn't you say?"

Alistair's jaw clenched, but he stayed calm. "Of course, your Majesty. Theron, Sierra, with me. Bann Teagan, could you get Arl Eamon and meet us in his study?" Teagan nodded, and slipped away. "This way, if you please," Alistair continued, and it was my turn to clench my teeth as he offered her his arm. "I'd appreciate you telling us what has happened before you go get cleaned up, if you don't mind, your Majesty."

She murmured something that must have been agreement, and Theron and I, in full armour, followed them to Eamon's study.

We'd decided that Alistair should try to appear confident and in-control around Anora, to see how she would respond to a competent-seeming rival for the throne. Aedan would step back and allow it to seem that Alistair was the one calling all the shots. I knew that, knew he had to act the statesman and host, but I wanted to slap those stupid buns right off her head when she placed her hand on Alistair's offered arm, never mind wanting to torture her until she told me what happened to my brother.

In the study, Alistair ushered Anora to a chair, pulled out a second for me, and then sat behind the big desk, trying not to blush while she studied him. Theron went to stand behind Alistair, helmet still securely in place.

"Introductions, then, while we wait for the Arl. I am-"

"Alistair Theirin, yes I can see that. My father mentioned you were a Grey Warden at Ostagar, and certainly the resemblance to my late husband makes it...obvious that you are Maric's son."

"Yes. And this is Lady Sierra Cousland."

Anora raised her eyebrows daintily. "Cousland? Are you a cousin, then, perhaps?"

We'd worked out a cover story on our way to Denerim. "No, your Majesty." I consciously kept the rising anger out of my voice. "I am the daughter of the late Teyrn and Teyrna. I was raised away from Highever, and encountered my brother by accident after Ostagar."

Her expression was hard to read, but skeptical seemed likely. "Raised away from Highever? Where? The Couslands always opposed fostering their children. Why would they do that?"

"Somewhere remote and safe, your Majesty. I'd rather not say, as it would put those who raised me at risk. As for why – I don't know, and I'm afraid asking them now will be difficult."

She pressed her lips together, obviously not convinced but unable to continue questioning me without appearing rude. "I am sorry-"

She was interrupted in what I assumed was a platitude for the death of my parents by the entrance of Eamon and Teagan. Eamon bowed, Teagan glowered, and I almost laughed. Teagan went to stand by Theron, while Eamon pulled up another chair. I watched Anora's expression turn thoughtful as she noticed Alistair neither stand when Eamon entered, nor give up his seat behind the desk.

"I hope we didn't miss anything?"

"Just introductions, your Grace."

"Oh good, so you've met Lady Cousland, your Majesty." To his credit, Eamon managed to keep his usual irritated expression off his face when he looked at me.

Anora nodded. "Indeed. I would like to hear more about your upbringing sometime, Lady Cousland."

"If you like, your Majesty." Bowing my head in assent, trying to look agreeable, took significant willpower.

Alistair saved me from having to say more. "I hope you don't mind if we wait for those sorts of pleasantries, your Majesty. Please, tell us what happened when Warden Aedan rescued you?"

"I don't know what happened before they reached my door, though they were covered in blood. We tried to leave, but we were ambushed. I slipped out during the fighting – no one stopped me in this disguise – and came straight here, as Aedan had informed me where he was staying. I don't know much else. I had to sneak here – I left there probably two hours ago now."

I felt my heart drop; it had been expected, but I had hoped they could have avoided it. "Who were they fighting? Your Majesty," I added the honorific as a second thought when she turned a frosty gaze my way.

"I do not know. No one I recognised."

"Ser Cauthrien wasn't there?"

"As I said, no one I recognised. I imagine Ser Cauthrien is at the palace with my father."

I tried to hide my sigh of relief; Alistair and I shared a relieved look. Alistair was opening his mouth to ask more questions when a servant rushed into the room.

"Your Grace, your Majesty," the servant practically stuttered, his movements jerky as he appeared to be trying to choose between bowing and kneeling, "the Warden has returned. They are in the main hall." His face was pale, and I'd have thought it was just nerves, but he caught my eye with a barely perceptible grimace.

I didn't wait; I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hallway, back the way we'd come.

The first person I saw was Anders, alive, but looking...grey. He had a bulky bandage around one arm, and it was soaked through with blood. He was slumped against the wall, clinging to his staff like it was a walking stick, and I thought he might vomit if anyone jiggled him. Solona seemed to have no such concern as she barrelled into him from a side passage, tossing her arms around his neck. I saw surprise on his face, followed by relief; then he buried his face in her pale hair, releasing his staff to pull her closer. He slid down the wall, still holding her, and she followed him down.

A jumble of people obscured my view of the rest of the room, but Alistair cleared a path like an arctic icebreaker, pulling me behind in his wake. I reached the front of the crowd just in time to see my brother, evidently unconscious, being lowered to the floor. I glanced at the others who had accompanied him, to see Leliana looking tired, dried blood streaked from a new barely-healed scar on her forehead; Zevran held Aedan's head in his lap, and an unfamiliar raven-haired man with his back to me was helping to lower my brother to the floor. He had greasy hair tied back with a leather thong, and his clothes were dirty and unkempt, one step from the rag bag. He had scruffy facial hair, not long, but not well-kempt either. Wulf was glowering in the back with another newcomer – an absolutely filthy female elf, wearing mismatched armour and gripping the former werewolf's arm tightly.

The dark-haired man looked up at the commotion, and I gasped, windmilling my arms as I screeched to a halt; I'd have fallen, if not for Alistair catching me and setting me back on my feet.

"Nathaniel? Nathaniel Howe?" I couldn't have mistaken that face no matter how much facial hair it hid behind.

He glanced at me, face drawn in confusion; I didn't have time to dwell on it when I noticed a steady trickle of blood coming out of my brother's mouth. I shouted for Wynne and heard a soft reply; while the healer worked her way through the crowd, I threw myself to the ground beside him, grabbing one limp hand and putting my other hand on Zev's shoulder. I looked over at Anders.

"What happened? Why didn't you heal him?"

"Magebane," the mage croaked, gesturing to his bandaged shoulder. He looked completely spent. "One of them got me, and must have coated his blade with it. I don't even have a scrap of mana." Solona swore and started pulling at the bandages, her aura flaring as she prepared to pour healing into him. "I'm fine, love. And you're not much of a healer. I never thought I'd say this, but it's lucky I spent so long in solitary on magebane, otherwise I probably would have had to be carried back too."

Wynne reached us and sank to her knees beside me, her blue diagnostic scan already running over Aedan's battered body. She clucked in disapproval. "I'm going to try to stabilise him, but then I'm going to need," she glanced at Anders and shook her head, "Jowan, and Morrigan, and a lot of Lyrium. And somewhere to work."

All three dwarves rushed off to find the necessary people, and Sten stepped forward. "I will carry him once he's stabilised." He nodded to Wynne, who was already weaving healing spells and laying them across Aedan's comatose body. When she drew back, the big man took Aedan into his arms bridal style, far more gently than I'd have thought him capable of, and he headed to Aedan's room.

Zevran helped Wynne up, and I stood.

Alistair clapped his hands loudly to get everyone's attention. "Everyone please, we will meet in the library in two hours to update you. For now, please take care of yourselves, get cleaned up, while we get Aedan healed."

I didn't wait for him to finish talking, already turning to follow Sten towards Aedan's room; I heard steps behind me, and I glanced back to see a dejected-looking Zevran, Theron, Teagan, and on Alistair's arm again, Anora. I reached back and took Zevran's hand, pulling him to walk beside me.

"What happened?"

The assassin spared one dirty look for Anora, then turned back. "We were betrayed, ambushed. We fought. But with Anders unable to heal...Aedan was amazing. Everywhere all at once; I'd never seen him dance like that, yes?" I nodded encouragement. "But he jumped in front of a blow meant for me. A large man with a very wicked maul. It should have been me." His expression was heartbreaking, and a tear actually escaped one eye. He wiped at it angrily. "And the last words I said to him were in anger. I am sorry, cara mia. I failed to keep my promise, to keep him safe."

"No, Zev." I stopped and pulled the elf into a tight hug; he stiffened at first, but then relaxed and hugged me back. "He's going to live, and those won't be your last words to him. And I know whose fault it is," I wasn't going to be able to avoid glaring at Anora, so I closed my eyes instead, "and it isn't yours. Let's not lose sight of who is really to blame."

It was an unsubtle warning, and I felt Zevran squeeze in acknowledgement. I didn't trust anyone else to watch Anora as closely as he could. As he would, especially now that Aedan had been injured. The two would still have some things to work out, but it struck me that it would probably be a little easier for Zevran to forgive, after watching Aedan nearly die. I wonder if that would have helped me with Alistair?

"Howe's dead, though, right?"

"Yes." His vicious tone surprised me; the man was despicable, but I wondered what set Zevran off. "Later, bella donna."

Holding Zev's hand, I went through the door to Aedan's room to see Sten carefully settle the lifeless-appearing body of my brother on the bed. The blood flow out of his mouth had stopped, but he looked pale, and his breaths were shallow and fast. Sten left us there, and Zevran and I stripped off as much of Aedan's drake scale armour as we could just as Wynne, Jowan, and Morrigan came bustling in, all carrying Lyrium potions. His armour was dented, but there was almost no blood; evidently, all of his injuries were internal. That didn't strike me as a good thing.

Alistair, Teagan, and Anora took up positions against the far wall while Theron played the act of a guard at the door, and I pushed Zevran to sit on the side of the bed, resting my hand on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

"You know the drill," Wynne said, and Morrigan and Jowan nodded. "I'll direct the flows. Use Lyrium when you need it." She turned to the rest of us. "Be quiet until we're done, or get out."

Everyone nodded, and they began. It was interesting, being able to watch the process a little bit more objectively than when I'd been the subject. Wynne's aura flared, and then Morrigan's, and then the two weaved together; Jowan was last, his a familiar greasy sensation to my templar senses, and the three auras melded together seamlessly. It seemed that magic was multiplicative, not additive – the three together had an aura much larger than the three single auras added together would have accounted for. I glanced at Alistair, whose face was scrunched up in discomfort; I imagined my expression was similar. It felt like there was so much magic gathered, just roiling expectantly around in the air, that I almost thought the roof would blow off.

And then it changed, and Wynne began healing. Unlike with my knee, nothing was visible, so we waited with bated breath, unable to assess how well it was working. Each of the three mages took a Lyrium potion, and then a second, and the healing dragged on. Aedan's breathing caught, and then eased, and his complexion slowly returned to a pale normal instead of the sickly grey he'd been.

The auras finally collapsed, and with collective breaths of relief, the three mages sagged. I looked to Wynne, who sank onto the bed on the opposite side from Zevran. "He will be fine, I think." She sighed. "He's going to need some time – his kidneys were damaged, and there are a lot of toxins to clear. When Anders recovers, we'll need to do more healing. His spine..." She glanced up at my face, which must have looked completely panicked. His spine? What if he's broken it? What if he never walks again? Wynne put her hand out towards me. "He'll be fine, Sierra. But his recovery will take a little while."

I nodded, tears of fear and relief slowly rolling down my face. I leaned down and kissed Aedan's forehead, and then turned and did the same to a stricken-looking Zevran.

Alistair cleared his throat. "We need to have a meeting." He made eye contact with me, and then Zevran. "We need you there, Zev."

The assassin looked about to shake his head, but Wynne leaned across and touched his arm softly. "I will take care of him. He will not wake until you return, I promise."

He reluctantly nodded, stood, and faced Alistair. "As you say, your Majesty." No one failed to notice he addressed this to Alistair, not Anora, and her pretty face flushed with anger. "If it pleases you, may I have ten minutes to wash up first?"

Alistair didn't comment about the honourific, but his lips twitched, trying to hide a smirk. "You have an hour, actually. Meet me in the library then."

Zevran nodded and slipped out, and Alistair turned to Anora. "Would you like some time to get cleaned up as well, your Majesty? Erlina has already prepared you a room."