There and Back Again Ch. 063-064

Before they left, I decided to broach the subject of Meredith. I wanted only Irving and Greagoir to hear, so I asked the two men for a minute of their time.

"So, I'm hoping now you can concede that I am what I say, that I'm not from here." Both men nodded, looking slightly puzzled. "That book I told you about? The one that predicts the future here? It keeps going, well past the events of the Blight. And it's not good news."

I must have looked as nauseous as I felt when I thought about Kirkwall, because Irving looked concerned. "What is the matter, my dear? Surely it cannot be so dire. You've already said we defeat the Blight."

"We do. But after that...there's going to be a war. Between mages and templars. The specifics don't matter, particularly, but there are two things that can, possibly, slow things down and restore some sanity. One I am taking care of, and I will not tell you. But the other...you need to know that the trigger, the one who truly starts the war, is Kirkwall's Knight-Commander - Meredith Stannard."

Irving looked horrified, but I noted Greagoir only looked thoughtful. "You don't look surprised, Knight-Commander. I'm guessing you've met Meredith?"

He nodded. "She's...devout, I'll give her that." The way he said devout, it sounded like 'crazy'. I couldn't disagree.

Irving's frown deepened. I sighed. "She'll become much worse, if you can imagine. She's going to be exposed to a magical artifact made out of Red Lyrium; she'll have it made into a sword, actually. Red Lyrium is extremely toxic; it will drive her mad - deepen her paranoia, remove her ability to reason. She'll end up executing dozens of mages or making them Tranquil, even ones that have passed their Harrowing and are not practicing blood magic; she will turn the Gallows into an actual prison, again, allowing abuse to happen, getting involved in Lyrium smuggling... She will push the mages to their breaking points, quite literally forcing many innocent people to turn to blood magic, because it's that, Tranquility, or death.

"Because of her, a mage underground will spring up, dedicated to freeing the mages, and when she goes too far, it will explode into war. And after the Kirkwall Circle falls, the others will start to fall, one by one. It's possible to prevent the Circle here from falling, with the right reforms, but the rest are doomed.

"The only way I can see to prevent some of the bloodshed is for Meredith to be removed as Knight-Commander. And I don't mean years from now, when the damage is already done; I mean now. Before she gets her hands on that Idol. Before she goes completely mad. She needs to be kept away from mages at all costs."

Greagoir turned to pace, but I was happy to see he hadn't dismissed my claims out of hand. "What you suggest is not an easy thing. With no evidence of wrongdoing, I will never be able to convince the Grand Cleric, never mind the Divine, that she must be reassigned."

"Actually, if you're talking to Elthina, you might try telling her to pander less to the nobility, send her sisters and brothers to help the poor once in a while, and stop assuming that a miracle will happen on her doorstep. Andraste favours those who use their position and abilities to help others, and those who do their duty; all she ever seems to do is avoid hers, leaving it 'in the Maker's Hands'."

Irving snickered, and Greagoir shot him an annoyed glance. "You're speaking of the Grand Cleric, woman. Show some respect."

"I respect those who deserve it, Knight-Commander. Neither Meredith nor Elthina do."

He shook his head irritably. "If we get back to Meredith, what would you suggest I do? You know that no one will believe me when I tell them she's a danger."

I thought about it, and inspiration struck. "Have you sent Cullen to Kirkwall yet?"

His shocked expression morphed into a wry chuckle. "That's very disconcerting, you know. I have not. I haven't even mentioned it yet."

"Well, he needs a bit of time to...recover, but once he has, he should be the new Knight-Commander. My suggestion? Get him on your side, warn him about Meredith, and have him send you reports. He won't have the confidence to report a superior for misuse of command, not until she's stark raving mad at any rate. Encourage him to write to you about anything he sees as being...not right, and perhaps you can use that as evidence?" Greagoir nodded, deep in thought. "Or frankly, just have someone assassinate her now. It would probably be easier."

Greagoir looked up sharply, but relaxed when he saw me grinning. I won't tell him I'm half-serious. "I'm not sure that would help, honestly; she'd just end up a martyr for mage-haters."

I grinned. "You do have a sense of humour! Well done."

He smirked. "What should I tell Ser Cullen to look for?"

"Tell him to keep count of the number of Tranquil, and ask the pretty ones about their sex lives. There was a strong implication some of the Tranquil were being used as sex slaves. And find a way to have her sword examined, by mages or the Tranquil or someone, whoever can recognise it for what it is. I suspect the rest will be obvious."

Greagoir finally left, with Wynne and Irving in tow; I was happy that they hadn't dismissed my concerns, but remained unconvinced that anything would come of it. Sighing, I returned to my spot near the fire.

It was near supper, and all the concentrating I'd been doing with Greagoir had given me a headache. I picked at some food, suddenly nervous to meet Anders, still anxious about Alistair, and overall irritable. Leli had asked for my phone, so I wandered off to sit on the shore until sunset. Zev joined me, this time, and I wondered if they'd drawn straws for who would come find me; nevertheless I was grateful for his company.

He didn't ask, didn't push, just sat quietly beside me and let me think.

"Zev?"

"Yes, my dove?"

"Am I being too hard on him?" I couldn't say his name, but I knew Zev would understand who I meant.

"No, Bellissima. He made a mistake, a grave one, and it is entirely up to you to decide how to respond. There is no such thing as a 'standard' amount of harshness in situations like this, yes?"

I sighed. "That doesn't help."

"I know. I am sorry. If I may ask...do you love him still?"

I nodded, then buried my face in my hands. He put one arm around my shoulders and waited. When I looked up, he continued.

"He is set on pursuing you. He wishes to make amends."

"I know."

"Do you wish him to stop?"

I paused, watching the sunset reflect beautiful colours on the water of Lake Calenhad.

"I just don't know."

We sat quietly again until the sun finally set, and I clambered to my feet to head back to camp. On my way back, I heard music playing softly from Alistair's tent, and I smiled sadly. I could have sung along, not that I would have where anyone could hear me. The song he'd chosen was "Let her go" by Passenger.

Staring at the bottom of your glass

Hoping one day you'll make a dream last

But dreams come slow, and they go so fast

You only need the light when it's burning low

Only miss the sun when it starts to snow

Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low

Only hate the road when you're missing home

Only know you love her when you let her go

And you let her go...

My gaze found Leliana, the last person I knew had my phone, and she tilted her head, gesturing toward my tent. I sighed and followed her through the flap, sitting cross-legged on my bedroll.

"He asked for my phone?"

"No. I gave it to him. I told him that I'd figured out what he'd been doing, with the songs, and that I had chosen one he should listen to. I think you heard it, yes?"

"Leli! I asked you not to do anything. I asked you to give me some time."

"I know, but, my friend...he is hurting you. Both of you. I didn't understand just how badly until today. Every time one of you picks a song and sends it to the other, both of your hearts bleed. It would be kinder just to use a dagger, and be done with it, no?"

I knew I was going to lose my temper, and I'd taken it out on Leliana before. I wasn't going to do it again. I was already tired and irritable, not acting rationally; she was trying to help me, despite expressly ignoring my wishes. I held my tongue, and asked her to leave me alone. She complied, reluctantly, and departed.

I thought about her words, and my reaction to her essentially telling Alistair to let me go. I thought about how I felt when I heard him listening to that song. I thought about what Zevran had asked me.

Suddenly I was very tired. I changed out of armour and curled up in my blankets, falling straight asleep.

I woke several hours later with a scream. The darkspawn dreams were horrific, and in this one, I could have sworn it was a vision...of a dwarf being turned into a broodmother. I wondered if it was Laryn. I stumbled out of my tent over to the edge of camp, where I retched into the bushes. I'd heard a saying once - 'I have learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you're done' - and I'd always thought it only applied to drinking. I had tears running down my face, and probably snot too, given how congested I felt; the whole thing was humiliating. When my stomach finally settled, someone handed me a rag, and I wiped my nose and mouth before sitting back with a gasp. My stomach hurt, and my mouth tasted like I was the one eating darkspawn flesh mixed into a gruel with Maker-knew what else. My benefactor handed me a waterskin, and I rinsed out my mouth and spat before taking a big drink.

I finally turned to see who had been unfortunate enough to witness my gastrointestinal pyrotechnics, and to no one's surprise, ever, it was Alistair. Really, it's like my life is being orchestrated for maximum humiliation. I sighed and thanked him softly.

"Darkspawn?"

I nodded. "Broodmother."

He shuddered, and then took my hands to pull me to my feet. "I'm sorry."

I stepped towards the fire; I knew I was not going to sleep anymore, not for a while, so I planned to take over watch and send Alistair to bed. I only got a couple of steps closer to the fire, however, when I heard Alistair gasp.

"Sierra, Maker, what happened?" I looked down at my legs, where he was staring in horror, and realised that my trousers were stained with blood. I was oddly detached, looking at the spreading redness; I knew I should have been scared, but my emotions just couldn't seem to catch up with the rest of me.

After a few moments, I noticed Morrigan approach, Alistair practically dragging her by the arm. I was dazed; I hadn't even noticed that he ran off to get the mage. She took one look at me, told Alistair to go back to the fire, and then took one of my hands, pulling me into my tent. I tried to object, but she just tugged harder, and I followed her without fighting it.

She pushed me back on my bedroll, which was also stained, I noticed abstractly; I couldn't seem to focus on any of the details. I felt her aura and then a green glow came from her hands, hovering over my midsection. I put my head back and closed my eyes, wondering if I was in shock from blood loss. Morrigan didn't look frightened, however, so it couldn't have been that bad.

Some discomfort I had barely registered eased, and I recognised what it had been: cramps. When Morrigan finished, she allowed me to sit up. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to collect my wits.

"Sierra?" Her soft voice interrupted my confused train of thought, and I looked up at her. She was holding a small yellow ball that shed soft light through the tent.

"Well, this is embarrassing."

"Sierra, you are far too old not to know what is going on. What has come over you?"

"I..." I paused, thinking. "I've been taking medicine, at home, for years, to prevent my period from coming." She looked confused, so I clarified, "My uh, girly bleeding thing. Whatever you call it here."

"Monthlies."

"Right. Well, I haven't had one in five years. I sort of forgot what they were like. When I was back, before, the doctor asked me if I wanted to keep taking the medication, and I said no, I didn't think I needed it. Alistair was using protection, and...well, I guess I didn't think that through very well."

"Are your monthlies always this heavy?"

"They used to be. Before. That's why I took the medicine."

"Why did they never fix this?"

"It can't be fixed. Some women are just like that." The incredulous look on her face almost made me laugh. "No magic, where I come from, remember?"

"I am no healer; though I now know one spell, it is not sufficient for this. Wynne should be more than capable, however."

"I'll talk to her tomorrow on the boat." Morrigan nodded and rose to leave; I raised my hand to stall her. "Um, Morrigan?"

She nodded.

"What do I do about..." I gestured to my lap.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm guessing there are no tampons in Thedas. What do I use to prevent it from bleeding through my clothes?"

"What is a tampon?"

"A little absorbent thing that you put...up...it keeps the blood from making a mess. You throw them away when they're soiled."

"Ah. Well, most women here use rags. You have to wash them out and reuse them. However, I can, temporarily, suspend your bleeding until you talk to Wynne. I know how to make a potion."

"Oh, would you? I'd love you forever. I'm already mortified, I don't know how I'd be able to manage."

"You should know - you should not get pregnant within a month of taking the potion. The baby could have birth defects."

"That shouldn't be a problem." I looked away, and she got up to go again. "Morrigan?"

She sighed and settled again. "Yes, Sierra?"

"Is...is there any chance this is a miscarriage?"

"No. That was the first thing I checked."

I was flooded with a feeling I couldn't quite place, and then I realised it was a jumble of emotions, not just one. Relief that nothing was wrong, that I wasn't pregnant, that I wasn't having a miscarriage; embarrassment that I didn't know how to manage my own bodily functions in this ridiculous world, and that Alistair had seen me; and a deep sadness - for just one moment, I'd hoped that I could be having Alistair's baby.

Morrigan finally left, leaving me reeling as I analysed my own emotions. Clearly I was not even close to having figured out this Alistair thing, if I could seriously be hoping for that. As an obligation was not the way I wanted to move forward there, thank you very much.

I changed into a loose nightdress, balling my soiled smalls inside a fresh pair until Morrigan came back with her potion. I stripped the bloody blankets off my bedroll, grabbed my soiled trousers, and bundled them together. Between the dream I'd had and my acute embarrassment, sleep was just not going to happen; I decided that when Morrigan returned, I would take my things down to the lake and try to get the stains out while they were fresh.

I didn't have to wait long - Morrigan's slender arm came through the flap of my tent holding a flask of some green concoction that smelled like death. I tried to chug it, but it was thick and resisted being drunk quickly; I gagged my way through it and then spent a couple of minutes hoping not to throw up again, before I managed to settle my stomach.

I crept out of my tent, holding a bundle of soiled cloth, only to have Alistair approach anxiously.

"I want to thank you for not waking everyone." I couldn't imagine how much worse it would have been if Aedan or Tomas saw.

"Are you alright? Morrigan wouldn't tell me anything."

"I'm fine." We hadn't spoken almost at all in days; it felt weird to do so now.

"You're not fine! That was a lot of blood, Sierra. How did you get injured?"

I looked at him, incredulous. How could anyone be that naïve...it occurred to me to wonder if the Chantry taught even basic sex ed.

Please, Maker, don't force me to teach Alistair about female bodily functions.

"It wasn't an injury, Alistair. I...well, women in general, I suppose, have these, um, things that happen. Every month or so."

His faced flushed scarlet - I could tell even in the very dim firelight. He stammered. "I know that! But you never.,..I mean, before I didn't think you...had that."

"I was on medication. Back on Earth. I told you about that before?" He nodded. "It stopped them."

"So what's gone wrong then?"

"They asked me if I needed it anymore, and I said no."

"Why?" He looked so vulnerable, then, his expression open and puzzled, and I almost gave in. Almost. Because some day I wanted your baby. There was no way I was going to admit that out loud.

"Alistair, if you don't know the answer to that question, I am certainly not going to enlighten you. Perhaps you can ask Wynne about it later. She seems to enjoy discussing personal matters with you. For now, I'm going to go clean up, and you're going to stay on watch."

"But you can't go down there alone. I'll wake Aedan and come with you."

"No you won't. You won't wake him at all. When I'm done washing, it's my watch, and that's final. I do not want you down there with me, Alistair. I don't want anyone down there. Contrary to popular belief, I am not helpless. It's close enough that I can shout if I need help, and I have my dagger in case the local wildlife get curious. Now go sit down."

"Sierra..."

"Please, Alistair." I was on the verge of hysterics. I couldn't have this conversation any more. "Please just leave me be. Please."

I turned and walked away, pumping my kinetic flashlight to light my path. I didn't hear armour clanking, so he must have let me go. I made it to the shore and sank down, trying to bottle everything up. I was sick of being so fragile.

After a moment I started my trousers soaking as I pulled off my smalls and washed myself carefully. That done, I started scrubbing my soiled clothes against a rock with some soap, rinsing frequently to remove the blood. After all the fighting I'd seen so far, I was more than knowledgeable of how to get blood out of cloth.

Finally satisfied that my trousers and blankets were salvaged, I tucked my wet panties inside them and took my bundle of wet things back to the fire. Alistair didn't object when I sent him to get some sleep, and once I was alone except for Shale, as usual, I spread my wet clothes and blankets on rocks as close to the fire as I could.

I was chilly; my blankets were damp, and I really should have been wearing more than a nightgown, so I crawled to the opening of my tent, pulled out my armour and my heavy cloak, and dressed hurriedly by the fire. Then I sat, for the rest of the night, staring into the flames and trying not to think anymore.