There and Back Again Ch. 039-040

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Choices

With Wynne, Morrigan, and Zevran all exhausted and Leliana still asleep, we decided to delay travel for another day to allow for recovery. I climbed into our tent, grimacing at the two new holes in the canvas. Aedan, Alistair, Sten, and Shale set up some sort of watch schedule, and after a few minutes to fix trampled tents and settle in, every quieted down and slept. I cuddled into my bedroll and was asleep in moments despite being alone in the tent.

When I woke, the sun was shining fully down on the canvas, and the air inside the tent was stiflingly warm. Sitting up and scooping my tangled brown hair into a quick pony tail, I crawled out of the tent in my night dress, too worried to care who saw me. Alistair was sitting right outside, and he smiled sweetly at me as I emerged. A quick look around showed Morrigan sitting by the fire making poultices, Aedan and Zevran leaning casually back against a fallen tree trunk talking quietly, and Sten and Shale, still vigilant, watching the woods suspiciously. The mage was awake, huddled in a ball near Morrigan, with Prince still staring at him balefully. Of Leliana and Wynne, there was no sign.

I plopped down beside Alistair, leaning in to rest my head on his shoulder. He handed me a hunk each of bread and jerky, and I took them gratefully.

"You okay? You look tired. You should have woken me."

"I'm fine, love. Just sick of worrying. We need to figure out what to do with him." He nodded in the direction of the young elf cowering by the fire. "You should have seen his face when he realised both of us were templars. I thought he'd soil himself."

I allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction, and almost immediately felt guilty. I shrugged and changed the subject.

"Wynne? Leli?"

"Wynne was out a few minutes ago. She told me she's keeping Leliana asleep to help her recover. She went back in there just before you came out."

I sighed with relief. "Thank God. If she...if we hadn't..." I was unable to voice the terrible thought of a world without Leliana. Alistair wrapped his arm around me and squeezed slightly.

"I know. We all love her too. But she's going to be fine. And by the way, that thing you did last night was amazing. I'm impressed."

I heard a rustle, and Aedan and Zevran appeared, settling in beside us. Aedan squeezed my hand. "Me too, little sister. You're amazing."

I blushed crimson, stuttering, trying to demur. "I didn't...it's not...Look, any of us would have done it if they knew how."

"Yep. But no one else did, did they? I'm assuming that's how you saved Theron and Tomas?" Aedan squeezed again.

I nodded, and Alistair kissed the top of my head. The blush just wouldn't go away. I was embarrassed by their praise, embarrassed to be embarrassed, which just made it worse. I ducked my head and tried to interrupt the vicious cycle of blushiness.

Zevran spoke up. "How did you even know we were under attack, cara mia? Even our lovely Orlesian Bard did not realise until it was too late."

I giggled. "It's your fault, really, Zev. I woke up and had this itchy feeling down my spine...sort of like when Aedan makes you follow me, or when you try to play pranks on me while I'm meditating. Apparently living with a Crow has given me a sixth sense about these things."

I grinned as Zevran puffed out his chest. "Excellent! Then I shall claim the victory as my own, yes? Without me, you never would have known what that sensation was."

We all laughed, but I could see the underlying insecurity in Zev's smile. He was feeling responsible for Leliana's injury, thinking that as an assassin, he should have known we were about to be ambushed. I wanted to hug him and tell him it wasn't his fault, but I knew acknowledging it would only make things worse. Alistair, in his own endearing fashion, solved the dilemma for me. He held his hand out to Zevran, and when the surprised assassin took it, Alistair pumped it enthusiastically.

"You can claim any victory you want. Last night you saved Leliana's life and nearly ran yourself to death doing it. You have our gratitude, and my respect. Thank you, Zev. Truly."

The shock on Zevran's face was priceless, and I wished I had a camera. Aedan grinned at Alistair, pleased, and I chuckled softly, nuzzling my face into the brawny shoulder of the man I loved. I was impressed; in the game, it hadn't seemed like Alistair had the maturity to recognise Zevran's worth underneath all the Antivan's bluster, and I was amazed at this more confident Alistair. Duncan's death damaged him so deeply -- I didn't realise exactly how deeply until now. I shuffled to my knees, leaning over to draw Alistair into a soft, loving kiss, then pulling away and climbing to my feet.

"I'm going to go check on Wynne and Leli."

The three men smiled and nodded, and I padded over to the tent the two women shared. Passing Morrigan, I smiled brightly at her and she nodded back, a small smile of her own looking so uncomfortable on her serious face. I called out quietly, and then entered when Wynne invited me in. Leliana was still asleep in her bedroll, but she'd recovered her colour and looked comfortably normal. I smiled at Wynne and sat beside her; the mage returned my smile. When she spoke, it was soft, but she didn't whisper, and I inferred that we wouldn't disturb Leli with a conversation.

"How is she?"

"She is fine, actually. I was just thinking about dispelling the sleep spell. She should be fully recovered, though she'll need a bit of extra rest for the next few days."

I nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Just needed a bit of time for my mana to recover. I suppose most of us needed some time after last night."

Turning to Leliana, the mage muttered an incantation under her breath and I felt the brief flare of magic I'd become accustomed to. She placed her hand on the bard's forehead, and Leliana's eyes shot open with a gasp. Her eyes were wild, until her gaze settled on Wynne's motherly face, and she relaxed.

"What happened?" Her voice was gravelly, and I handed her a water skin which she drank from gratefully.

Wynne and I took turns telling her what had transpired since the attack. She was visibly shaken by learning how sick she had been; despite this, she gave me a dirty look for getting Zevran to threaten the little mage. I just shook my head -- she was too forgiving, by half.

Wynne helped her to sit, and she pushed the covers back to gaze sadly at the ugly puckered scar on her thigh. I was sympathetic, but she was quick to dismiss that and assure me she wasn't bothered by it. I decided it was a good thing Fereldans didn't wear mini-skirts, Morrigan aside.

Wynne and I helped Leliana dress. Her armour was damaged from both the arrow and the subsequent cutting to expose the wound, and we bound the pants together with strips of cloth as best we could. Finally ready, the three of us emerged from the tent, and I realised all eyes were on us. The elf mage hastily looked away when he saw me, and I grimaced. Alistair held his hand out to me, and I went to him, snuggling as much as I could into his armoured chest.

Finally the group of us gathered around the fire with the mage who Aedan called Dariel across from me and Alistair. I tried to look non-threatening; by the pale complexion on the elf's face, I didn't succeed very well. Before Aedan could start talking, I spoke up, and Dariel flinched at the sound of my voice.

"Look, Dariel? I want to apologise for threatening you. We needed to know what that poison was, but...I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." He refused to make eye contact, and I sighed and tried again. "You should know I'm not a real templar. Neither is Alistair. We're not associated with the Chantry or the Circle. I'm just a girl with a few weird tricks up my sleeve. I wouldn't have actually hurt you, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you weren't hiding anything. It was a nasty thing to do and I really am sorry."

The elf risked a quick glance at me, and I tried to smile at him. He nodded, slightly, and looked away again, but he sat up straighter, his expression more confident. He still looked scared -- unsurprising, really -- but he didn't look like he was about to wet himself any more.

Aedan took over, introducing each of us in turn. The elf looked with interest at Morrigan, and with poorly disguised pity at Wynne, to my surprise. Once that was done, Aedan asked Dariel to tell the rest of us his story.

"Start from the beginning, okay?" He smiled reassuringly, and Dariel nodded.

"I was born in the Alienage in Amaranthine." He had a surprisingly low baritone for such a small, young-looking boy, and I blinked in surprise. "It was...not a nice place to live. My mother worked when she could as a servant in some of the shops and things, and my father was a drunk. There was never enough coin to support all of us. I had an older brother and a younger sister, and most weeks, we were very close to starvation. Even the other elves looked at us with pity. Half the time we lived on the street, begging to survive."

I was surprised at the completely flat tone he maintained during his entire speech. Uncomfortable as the subject matter had to be, I expected more squirming or stuttering. More emotion. Then again, maybe he'd had to learn to suppress those emotions.

"When I was seven, I was trying to earn some coin by doing odd jobs -- cleaning out the mabari kennels, or sweeping floors, that sort of thing. If I got lucky, I'd get a few coppers for my efforts, which I used to buy food for my little sister. My brother tried to work too, for a while, but eventually got mixed up with a group of thugs. We didn't see him much after that -- he went to live with them, wherever it was that they lived. One day, in the kennels, one of the kennel masters saw me cleaning up, and lost his temper. He had always been scary, and I usually avoided going there when he was working, but we hadn't eaten in two days and I was desperate. The kennel master got angry, and started hitting me, and calling me names, and I just...lost it. I don't know exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew, the kennel was on fire, and his clothes caught...he dropped me and I tried to run, but I just couldn't stand the thought of the dogs burning. I released as many as I could reach, but one of them had been burned and couldn't walk. I half dragged, half carried the poor beast out, and when I put my hand over his burn, it just...healed.

"Someone else saw it, and started screaming that I was an apostate. I panicked, and ran back to the Alienage. I'd heard stories about templars, and I didn't want to be caught. But when I got home, and told my parents what had happened, my father was so angry...Mother tried to calm him, but he walked out. He came back a few minutes later with a human, a big, scary looking, dirty, smelly human. Father told me I was to show him what I had done to the dog. He hit my sister, who was only four, hard enough that her cheek split open; to give me a patient to work on, I suppose. When she cried out, I ran to her, and somehow, I guess, I healed her. The big man grabbed me by the arm, gave my father a bag of coin, and took me. I couldn't stop him, he was too strong, and he just carried me away, crying. Later he told me my father sold me to him for two sovereigns and a promise never to reveal where I came from, to protect them from the templars.

"I've been with them ever since. They kept me chained for the first few weeks, until I was too exhausted and frightened to run away. They spent every evening telling me how if I escaped, the templars would get me, or they'd go back and hurt my sister for revenge. I finally gave up on any hope of freedom, and just did what they said. They had an older mage with them, a drunk who'd escaped the Circle in his youth, but he taught me some healing and about herbs, as well as how to read, a little. I never learned any real damaging spells, on purpose, so they couldn't use me as a weapon, but I was good at healing them after fights so they kept me. We've been travelling around Ferelden ever since, taking on mercenary jobs or turning to banditry when no jobs were available. This job was supposed to be the easiest -- keep an eye out for a group of travelers heading into Denerim, we were given a sketch of you-" he pointed at Aedan, "and then ambush you in your sleep. Bring you to Denerim and get some sort of reward. You weren't supposed to hear us coming. They almost didn't even bring me, thinking you wouldn't be able to put up any sort of fight. Nobody told us you had templars, or I definitely wouldn't have come."

As his story went on, I felt worse and worse about what I'd done. The poor kid had been sold into slavery, and I set Zevran on him and then threatened him myself. When Dariel finished his story, he stood and walked a short distance away, his eyes suspiciously bright. We all sat and stared at each other around the fire, pity on most of the group's faces, guilt written clearly on mine.

Aedan gestured us all a little closer so we could quietly discuss his story. No one seemed to disbelieve him -- his distress certainly seemed real to me -- and it would explain why he had not tried to cast a spell after I drained his mana, and why the thugs started with arrows, not a fireball. Much to my relief, no one looked even vaguely like we should be discussing executing him, even Sten, whose prejudice against mages, I'd noticed, was declining a bit over time. I briefly wondered why -- he had never softened in game, that I was aware of -- but put it off to think about another time.

"The way I see it, we have four options." I summarised my thoughts. "The first option would be take him to the Circle. Personally, I'm not keen on that one."

Wynne nodded agreement, to my surprise. "They would assume he was a blood mage, regardless of what we, or he, said. Greagoir might not be the fanatic that some Knight-Commanders are, but even he would either make him Tranquil or just execute him."

"And the way he looks at templars, he might just kill himself before we got him there. Or get killed trying to escape." Aedan looked sick thinking about it.

"Agreed. And if we aren't taking him to the Circle, he needs to find protection from templars. I don't think he'll survive on his own. We could just take him with us," I continued. "Another healer wouldn't be a bad thing. I worry about him being an apostate, though."

"I am also an apostate, if you recall." Morrigan's tone was acidic.

"Yeah, but you're unlikely to panic and try to run at the first sight of a templar. And if we do get attacked, you can shapechange into a bird and escape. He'd be caught," I explained, and Morrigan's frown eased. "Besides, most templars are men. They'd all be too busy staring at you, drooling, to really try to capture you." Morrigan smirked at my teasing, and I grinned.

"We could recruit him to the Wardens, get him out of the Chantry's jurisdiction." Alistair piped up.

"Yep. That's option number three. The downside is that we'd need to get him to Redcliffe, to wait for his Joining, and I don't fancy walking all the way back there. Plus he'd need serious training. And then there's the whole...Joining thing." Alistair, Aedan and I exchanged glances, and I could see they were also concerned about his ability to survive. The rest of the group looked mildly confused, but no one asked.

"What about the Dalish? They know how to hide their mages from templars. And Lanaya said they were desperately short on healers -- she was talking about having to find a way to trade another clan for someone to be her apprentice." Aedan picked at the long grass poking up from around the rock he was sitting on, his face pensive.

"And that's option number four. It's still a bit of a trip, but not as far as Redcliffe or the Circle, and it should be safe."

Wynne scolded us. "Don't you think he should have some say in his fate? You're all discussing him like he's some sort of imbecile or child. Maybe he's had enough decisions made for him?"

I could feel my face reddening with guilt as I realised we had indeed been talking about him as though he didn't really exist. Looking around, I could see Aedan and Alistair also looking embarrassed, none of us wanting to make eye contact. I'm acting like I'm still playing the game. What an ass! I sighed.

"I'm going to go talk to him. I need to make amends anyway, might as well be at the same time as I ask his opinion of his options."

"You want me to come with you?" Alistair's face was concerned.

"No, I'm good. I've got this."

Alistair kissed my forehead softly and Aedan pecked my cheek. Still wearing just a shift for sleeping, and carrying no weapons, I approached Dariel slowly.

"Dariel? Can we talk?"

He stiffened at my voice and whirled to face me, hands up defensively. I sat down on a nearby stump, hands held out, making no sudden moves. He watched my face, and I kept my gaze on his, hoping to project openness and calmness. After a few silent moments, he relaxed just enough to crouch nearby, out of arm's reach but close enough not to have to raise my voice. Good enough. I cleared my throat.

"What do you want of me?" I could hear something unspoken at the end of the sentence, whether it was 'shemlen' or 'templar' I wasn't sure, but the tone made it obvious it was meant as an insult. At least it remained unspoken. I'm going to assume that's a good sign.

"Your opinion, actually." I had to strain to keep my voice soft and civil. "I was wondering what you would do now, given the choice."

"It's not really up to me, now is it?" He couldn't keep the fear from his voice, and I felt ashamed all over again.

"But if it were?" He stared at me, mute, and I continued. "The way I see it, you'd actually have five options. One would be to leave us behind and strike out on your own. Try to find some way to survive."

"Like you would all just let a filthy knife-ear walk away after attacking you, and injuring a human."

"Listen, could we leave the name-calling out of it? There's an elf I consider family over there somewhere, and I'll thank you not to insult his race." His eyes widened somewhat and I smiled. "Anyway, as far as leaving is concerned...they would, honestly. Let you leave. If you walked away right now, none of us would stop you as long as you headed away from Denerim. We'd probably even give you supplies."

Still staring at me with an unfathomable expression, he finally nodded.

"So that's option one. Two would be to go the Circle, throw yourself on their mercy, and hope for the best. I wouldn't recommend that one, personally. They do owe us a favour, but real templars are a bit, well, rigid." I thought I glimpsed a slight smirk, and felt a little bit of hope. "Three would be to stay with us as you are, and hope we don't get accosted by real templars. Four would be to join the Grey Wardens."

His mouth fell open in surprise, and I almost laughed. "I won't lie; joining the Wardens is dangerous. But it does put you outside of the Chantry's influence. The last option would be to go to the Dalish and ask to join them. They know how to avoid templars."

He scoffed. "The Dalish would never take me."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but we know a clan who also owes us a few favours. And they are short on mages. Actually, they're just short on people, honestly. It wouldn't be easy -- I'm sure there'd be many who would treat you badly because of where you're from, and you'd have to work twice as hard as anyone else to be respected, but I think they'd take you."

He looked skeptical. "And you'd spend your favours on me? I doubt it."

"Why not? Look. We believe you. You've consistently drawn the short stick at every turn. You didn't choose to attack us, and in fact, you actually didn't. You were a slave, and if your masters happened to be mercenaries who took the wrong contract, that's not really your fault, is it? We're willing to help you, if you'll let us."