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***
Listening to Howe admit to everything that he did to the Cousland family and still having the nerve to gloat about it was enough to make Alistair’s blood boil. Kip appeared to be in agreement as she growled beside him, hackles raised and looking like she’d pounce on Howe at any second.
“Please tell me that we’re going to kill him.” Alistair looked towards Aedan.
“Oh please, let me do it?” Morrigan had yet to take her cat-like eyes off Howe, looking like a predator stalking prey. “I can draw it out.”
“As if you’ll get away with murdering the right hand of Ferelden’s rightful king.” Howe scoffed. “I’ll see you all hanged first!”
‘No,’ Aedan shook his head slowly, that far away look in his eyes again. Alistair wasn’t entirely certain who he was responding to. ‘This ends now.’
With a flick of his wrist and the tinkle of a glass flask smashing on stone, Aedan disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Alistair kept his sword and shield at the ready but simply sidestepped around the edges of the smoke while Morrigan stalked in the other direction, keeping a sharp eye on Howe as they slowly encircled him with menace and purpose in every step. Howe was trying to back away and finally beginning to look nervous when no more guards came and understanding began to sink in; there was no rescue coming for him this time. Kip was growling so low and intensely that Alistair could feel it in his chest.
“You’ll never get away with this!” Howe blustered, face reddening with anger as he pointed his sword at Alistair. “When Loghain finds out you’ve been threatening me, he’ll—”
“What? Run away? Like he did at Ostagar?” Alistair scoffed. “Speaking of which, where is he now?”
An ugly snarl twisted Howe’s face as he made to lunge at Alistair, but before he could even heft his sword, steel hit flesh with a sickly sound and the smoke cleared enough for Alistair to see Aeden standing behind Howe with his dagger buried deeply in his ribs.
“That is for my family.” Aeden hissed into Howe’s ear, then gently drew his other dagger across his throat. “And that is for Dairren.”
Howe let out a gurgle as blood spilled down his front, and Aedan ripped the blade out of his ribs and watched without expression as the man fell face down on the ground, dead.
It was a brutal death, but quick, and Alistair felt no remorse for the man. This wasn’t revenge. This was justice. When they found Loghain, he’d meet the same fate.
He looked at Aedan and they locked gazes, and he saw the same determination there, although there was some uncertainty as Aedan looked at him searchingly. Alistair gave him a grim nod without breaking eye contact, and the uncertainty seemed to vanish from Aedan’s face before he tilted his head in return.
‘Let’s get the queen and go.’ Aedan signed to all of them. ‘We’re done here.’
“Finally.” Morrigan sounded unreasonably pleased, but Alistair couldn’t deny that he was feeling it as well. They were one step closer to bringing Loghain to justice and gathering the forces they needed to end this Blight.
***
Alistair didn’t see the blow that fell Aedan, but his heart seemed to seize in his chest when he turned to see him crumpled on the ground at Ser Cauthrien’s feet. They were outnumbered, about to be overwhelmed, Anora had already fled with Erlina, and so Alistair did the only thing that he knew that Aedan would care about.
“Retreat!” Alistair shouted at Morrigan and Kip. “Fall back!”
The mabari war hound bayed in defiance and frustration as she bowled another archer over. Ser Cauthrien seemed to have an endless supply of troops; they just kept coming, and the knight herself didn’t look like she was even breathing heavily despite having gone one-on-one with Aedan for a good part of the battle.
“Kip, you heard them! Fall back!” Alistair shouted again. With luck, Loghain’s soldiers would take Aedan alive. If they’d surrendered, Alistair would have been more confident in Cauthrien’s willingness to let the rest of them go. Now that blood had been spilled and castle soldiers were spurned into a battle rage, Alistair couldn’t count on it.
For a moment, he thought that Kip would ignore him as she took down another foot soldier, but then she leapt to Morrigan’s side and herded her into the halls where they’d be able to make their escape in Anora’s footsteps. Some of the guards went to follow them, but Alistair banged his sword on his shield and widened his stance aggressively to grab their attention.
“Come and get me, you traitors!” Alistair bellowed with all the venom he could muster. “Or does Loghain only employ cowards?”
The ploy worked, and Alistair was suddenly the center of attention of a large group of very angry guards. He didn’t stop fighting, wanting to give Kip and Morrigan as much time as possible to escape, shoving people with violent slams from his shield and swinging his sword without prejudice.
He was already on the floor when he opened his eyes, choking on hot, coppery liquid and his ears ringing loudly enough it mostly drowned out the sound of shouts and thudding as he was pummeled by booted feet. He could see Aedan motionless on the floor, only just out of reach, and saw the rogue’s chest rise and fall with breath.
Alive. Thank the Maker—
Another kick aimed at his head hit him hard enough that everything went black.
***
Alistair woke to someone dabbing something on his head, startling in its suddenness, and his eyes tried to snap open as he gasped and twitched on the hard surface he lay on.
Moving turned out to be a mistake, as it set off a silent explosion inside his head and he blacked out again. When he struggled back into awareness next, he’d been rolled onto his side and someone held his head while he vomited bile and what little he’d eaten much earlier that day.
Time seemed to jump and skip rapidly, but the pain in his head was relentless. He had a distant awareness of Aedan saying something, whispering to him, but he couldn’t reply or even understand what he was saying.
Eventually he was able to realize he was locked in a cell with Aedan, both of them stripped down to the soft tunics and trousers they both wore under their armour. Aedan was bruised and bloodied, although most of the blood was dried and crusty on his skin and clothing. He kept wetting a cloth and gently dabbing it on the side of Alistair’s head, which somehow caused shooting pain while also feeling blissfully cool on his skin, and it was around then that Alistair realized he was only able to open one of his eyes. The flesh on his temple and forehead on the side he couldn’t open felt hot and tight, and Aedan wouldn’t let him touch it. The cloth he was using to dab at his head kept coming away bloodied, and he had to help Alistair at least twice more to roll onto his side so he could dry heave as his head throbbed and stomach roiled with nausea.
There was a long stretch where Alistair kept waking up and finding himself alone in the cell with no sign of Aedan anywhere. It was alarming, and nearly choked him with panic every time he realized Aedan was gone, but he blacked out any time he tried to move to get up.
Finally, he opened his eyes with the lingering, bitter taste of a healing potion on his tongue. Aedan was leaning over him, desperation in his eyes, and he seemed to hold his breath when he saw Alistair looking up at him.
“Did anyone see what ran me over?” Alistair managed to get out, although even he could tell he was slurring badly. Aedan let out a relieved breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at Alistair’s bad joke, but worry still furrowed his brow.
‘We need to leave. Can you stand?’
The thought sent a spike of dread through Alistair, but he could sense Aedan’s urgency.
“With… help.” He fumbled as he tried to reach up, but Aedan caught his arm and carefully pulled him into a sitting position.
Just sitting up made the world spin around him and his head throbbed steadily. Alistair rapidly blinked to clear the blackness that was gathering on the edges of his vision, and Aedan held onto his arm until he mostly stopped swaying. Something hot trickled down the side of his face and neck, and Aedan made a sound of distress before motioning for him to stop moving and produced some cloth bandages from somewhere.
Aedan gently pressed the cloth against the white hot centre of pain on his scalp and wrapped thinner strips around his head to keep the bandage from falling off. Alistair tried to convince himself that it only felt like the bandages were the only thing keeping his skull from falling apart, but a glance down at his shirt was enough to show that he was wearing more blood than some corpses he’d seen, and the back of his shirt didn’t feel any better.
He nearly sagged back onto the floor when Aedan managed to get him onto his feet, but he stubbornly locked his knees and Aedan held him tightly until the spinning at least slowed.
“That armour… it’s new?” Alistair frowned in confusion as he plucked at Aedan’s sleeve and nearly fell over, only saved because Aedan lunged and caught him, then dragged his arm over his shoulders to hold him securely against his side.
“Shh.” Aedan shushed him and gestured with his head before setting off down a hall, almost like he already knew where he was going. Alistair had about a million questions whirling in his dazed head, but considering that Aedan was trying to move him as silently as possible he knew it wasn’t the time.
Aedan moved quickly and confidently, taking darkened stairs and doorways that Alistair would’ve never noticed otherwise. It had to be mostly the servant’s pathways, but there were times that they had to cross or follow larger hallways lined with rich coloured carpets and large statues.
Wherever they were, the place was enormous.
“You have to leave me.” Alistair told Aedan when his knees began to buckle in what felt like the hundredth hallway they’d passed through. He knew he was still slurring, and the throbbing pain in his head was only getting worse. “They need you.”
“I need you.” Aedan hissed, and grunted when Alistair stumbled and fell against him again. “I’m not—”
Aedan’s voice broke, and he didn’t try again, but his grip never loosened on Alistair. As much as he just wanted to lie down and never get up again, Alistair tried to cooperate, stumbling and leaning more and more heavily on Aedan as he led them through what felt like a maze of a fortress. There were moments where Aedan pulled them into shadows and doorways while patrols passed them by, but Alistair barely noticed, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without having his legs give out.
The cool night air felt like pure bliss when it finally washed over his fevered skin. Aedan led him out a small side gate and into the city, taking them deep into the shadows as they took a cautious route back towards Eamon’s castle, and they were attempting to cross someone’s dark and empty garden when Alistair knew he had reached his limit. He tried to open his mouth to warn Aedan, but a dark wave of nausea washed over him and dragged him down before he could utter a sound.
Aedan grunted as he was suddenly holding all of Alistair’s not-inconsiderable weight, but he somehow managed to let him down to the ground rather than just dropping him. Alistair was dimly grateful for it; he already hurt enough. He could feel himself trembling, fingers weakly scraping against dirt and grass, and he tried to focus on how blissfully cool the dew felt on his skin instead of how badly his head was throbbing. Aedan was saying something, his voice hoarse with stress, and tried to pull him up again, but Alistair blacked out and only came to while Aedan was dragging him under a leafy bush.
Cool hands touched his neck, cupped the sides of his face, but he couldn’t even open his eyes anymore. The pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears was becoming distant, as if it was happening to someone else.
Aedan said something, his fingers pressing into Alistair’s skin, then dry lips briefly pressed to his forehead and he was gone.
***
Alistair opened his eyes and blearily gazed up at the canopy of a four poster bed. It took him a long moment to recognize the guest quarters of Arl Eamon’s estate in Denerim, and longer yet to realize he wasn’t alone.
Wynne sat beside the bed he was tucked into, reading some large tome that had likely come from the estate’s library. She was using her guardian wisp as light to read, as the only other light source in the room was the fireplace. Considering how much his eyes watered and blurred even in that little light, Alistair was grateful that it wasn’t any brighter. He could feel that his head was still wrapped in bandages, but the swelling had gone down enough that he could mostly open both eyes again. He supposed that was likely a good thing, although he could still feel a deep ache that threatened to become something more if he moved his head.
A light snore reached his ears, and Alistair was able to angle his gaze enough to see a leg hooked over the back of the couch in front of the fireplace.
“He’s only just fallen asleep after being up for days, so it only stands to reason that you’d wake now.” Wynne said, closing her book and setting it aside. Aedan continued snoring on the couch, undisturbed by her voice. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Please.” Alistair rasped, weaker than he expected. He tried to sit up a bit so he’d be able to drink, but the dull pain in his head spiked and began throbbing in time with his heartbeat.
“Remain still.” Wynne chided as he gasped and grimaced in pain. “I will make ice; hold it in your mouth and let it melt.”
It felt wrong to just lay there and let her help him do something as simple as eat ice chips, but between the pain in his head and her no-nonsense attitude he didn’t have much of a choice. The ice was surprisingly helpful, the coolness easing the pain in his dry mouth and throat. Once he’d gotten enough, he had to admit that while he felt better, it still wasn’t great. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so awful while recovering. He’d only just woken up and he already wanted to sleep again, although he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to with the way the pain continued to build in his head.
“Sleep, Alistair. Your body needs rest.” Wynne was annoyingly able to apparently read minds and was using that annoying ability now. “Don’t fight it.”
“I want to, but…” Alistair closed his eyes against the firelight, wincing at the tight and bruised feeling at his temple where he’d been struck. “How did…?”
“I’ll tell you if you promise to go to sleep after.” Wynne said, and waited pointedly until Alistair gave in with a nod. “Kip and Morrigan returned to warn us and come up with a plan to rescue you two, but by the time things calmed down enough for us to venture out, we stumbled upon Aedan in the street. He took us to where you were taking a nap under a garden hedge and carried you back here.”
“Is Aedan… he’s alright?”
“He’s fine, Alistair. Sleeping, like you should be.”
“I’ll… try.” Alistair was still trying to sort out what he needed to tell her before he did that. He had a sense of urgency, like he was forgetting something, but couldn’t think of what it could be. His head was throbbing even more insistently as pressure built up inside his skull and his breathing was involuntarily quickening. He didn’t remember anyone putting more wood on the fire but he was nearly positive it was getting brighter, because a spike of pain from the light made him flinch with a hiss of pain. “My head… hurts.”
It was really, really bad now. Just as bad as when he’d first woken in that cell with Aedan. Maybe worse. Hot liquid trickled over his upper lip and he tasted copper when it made him cough, and he was vaguely aware of Wynne gasping and leaning over him to hover her hands near his head. Healing magic washed over him, and at this close proximity he could actually feel it, gliding like a breeze over his skin and even in his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Alistair was pretty sure that his eyes were open again but all he could see was the green glow of Wynne’s magic. He distantly felt the mattress give as someone climbed onto the bed beside him and grabbed his hand to squeeze it.
He didn’t know how much time passed before he felt the healing magic withdraw, but it seemed to draw the worst of the pain out with it until he went lightheaded with relief. His vision was blurred when he opened his eyes again, but he could tell that it was Wynne still leaning over him while someone else hovered on his other side, and he felt the warm grip on his hand tighten.
“Is that better?” Wynne asked, pressing her hand against his forehead and peering into each of his eyes in turn. He could feel his heartbeat and breathing steadying, slowing, and the absence of that soul-crushing pain was nearly enough to move him to tears.
“Yes,” he managed to slur, already feeling like he was sinking, “thank you…”
He didn’t hear what she said next, falling into sleep like a stone dropped into deep water.
***