Chapter Text
The departure for the Hinterlands took place at dawn, but for Alduin it was utterly heartbreaking. The very idea of being separated from his furry friend was unbearably painful. Cassandra had explained to him the day before that Plume couldn't come, that a cat wasn't suited for such a journey, that there would probably be fighting, and that Plume could put them in danger by hiding or running away.
Alduin had listened, yes, he had listened. He knew that Mama Bear never lied; she was doing this for his own good.
But when the reality of the separation finally hit him, the tears came. Silent at first, then in great, compulsive sobs that seemed to tear his soul apart. He refused to let go of Plume, clutching her in his little child's arms.
"No! I want her to come!" He cried, unable to articulate his distress and sadness any further.
Plume was his first true friend, the first creature who wanted nothing from him, who was content with his warmth and offered him hers in return. Her soft fur was a balm for the invisible suffering of his orphaned heart. Leaving her was like abandoning a piece of this new sense of security.
Cassandra knelt down to his level, trying to catch his eye. "Alduin, remember what I told you. Sometimes we have to make difficult choices, and that takes a lot of courage." Cassandra replied. "And I know one thing: you are a very brave little boy."
Alduin buried his tear-stained face in Plume's warm fur. Yes, he remembered, she had explained it to him at length, but for him it was painful, so painful to be separated from her. "She'll be... afraid... without... me... I don't... want to abandon her..."
"May the Maker give me strength." Cassandra thought deep inside. "He's just a child."
Josephine knelt down in turn, her gaze compassionate and kind. "Alduin, look at me." She said, catching his tear-filled gaze. Alduin slowly raised his head, just enough to see her eyes. "Cassandra is right. Here at Haven, Plume will be warm. I've already had a little basket prepared by the fireplace in my office. She'll be safe and want for nothing, you have my word."
"But... I... don't want to... abandon her..." He repeated, tears in his eyes, as if leaving his cat behind meant losing her affection.
"Alduin, you're not abandoning her, she won't hold it against you. Animals feel just like we do, and she'll know you're doing this for her safety and her own good."
The logic, gently presented, slowly pierced through his grief. It was true. The most important thing was that Plume was safe. He kissed Plume on the head one last time and entrusted her to Josephine.
As Mama Bear had said, it was his first choice.
They finally left. Alduin, his eyes reddened, looked at his cat one last time. He had to be brave, yes, brave for everyone, for the journey ahead. The first steps on the path were marked by a gloomy silence. Alduin walked between Cassandra and Varric, holding the Seeker's hand. The fatigue, the stress of the last few days, and the reassuring warmth of Cassandra's hand got the better of him.
Cassandra felt him slump, and without thinking, she let go of her hand, bent down, and lifted him into her arms. Alduin, mentally exhausted, fell asleep almost immediately, his breathing slowing as he quickly drifted into a deep sleep.
"Poor kid." commented Varric, walking alongside Cassandra as he watched Alduin.
"I'm surprised that's your only comment today, Varric." Cassandra replied, almost sarcastically.
"What, would you have preferred me to say. “The great and severe Cassandra Pentaghast carrying a child in her arms?" He asked with feigned innocence.
"Oh... perhaps... after all, that suits you perfectly?"
Varric laughed briefly. "I see our Seeker has a sense of humour. I'll note that in my next book."
"I wouldn't advise it, Varric, otherwise..." She left the threat hanging.
The dwarf raised his hands with feigned innocence. "All right, all right, Seeker."
They walked for most of the morning, the landscape gradually changing with each step they took. The snow was replaced by grass and trees.
In the middle of the afternoon, Cassandra decided it was time for a break. They set up a rudimentary camp, Cassandra laid Alduin, still asleep, on a log, while Varric took care of the fire. As for Solas, he sat a little apart, cross-legged, to meditate.
The Seeker felt the weight of responsibility overwhelm her to an extent she could never have imagined. She had never imagined herself looking after such a young child. She preferred to strike at a dummy, to fight on a battlefield; that was where she felt most at home. Here, she had to show a side of herself that she did not like to show.
It was so unsettling that it became almost an obsession. Protecting Alduin, reassuring him, hugging him became an obligation for her. It was his duty.
She finally covered him with an old blanket before sitting down beside him.
"Sleep well, little one."
Varric came and sat on the other side of the fire, watching the scene. "Do you think he'll make it, Seeker?"
Cassandra looked at Alduin sleeping, then her stern gaze returned to the flames. "I don't know, Varric." She admitted uncertainly.
"The cat... it was hard for him." Varric took a small vial from his pocket and took a sip of water before offering it to Cassandra, who refused with a wave of her hand. "The first real attachment he ever had in this shitty world. The kind that breaks your heart when it ends."
"We're not breaking it." She replied, a little too sharply. "We're protecting it. A cat in the Hinterlands with templars and mages fighting over trifles was far too dangerous."
"I know, Seeker, I know." Varric raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "What I mean is, I understand why he cried. It's a good thing, it proves once again that innocence is the greatest weakness in this rotten world"
Cassandra looked at him questioningly, considering the dwarf's words.
Time passed and Varric eventually went to bed, while Cassandra fell into a light sleep, sitting on the log, her head leaning forward, one hand resting near Alduin as if to watch over him while he slept.
But for Alduin, it was a troubled sleep.
The darkness of the room. The smell of dust and sweat. Sunlight filtered lightly through his little bed. He had seen a wooden toy, a small carved wooden horse forgotten in a corner. He just wanted to play with it, to hold something he had always secretly desired.
"So, Alduin? I've been told you stole something." Replied a sharp, contemptuous voice.
Stole... Stole... no... he had just wanted to borrow it... yes, borrow it to play with.
"I... I didn't steal... I just wanted to play." He stammered with difficulty, afraid of the stick.
"You're lying, you wanted to take it for yourself. Little thief. Little liar." Replied the voice.
The stick appeared in the Sister's hand. Alduin begged to be good, always to be good. But the first blow landed on his back, a pain that Alduin endured. The blows rained down on his back and he cried because it hurt, it hurt so much.
Alduin closed his eyes to try to forget the blows that continued. He focused on the only image that was kind to him, the man who came to see him and gave him honey biscuits until the blows finally stopped.
Alduin had never said anything, ever. Speaking would only make things worse; he was afraid of being punished again for talking. It was too dangerous, too dangerous then, so he took refuge in silence. In silence, there were no blows.
In the rudimentary camp, Alduin's moans of supplication became muffled sobs, repeated like a desperate prayer.
Cassandra woke with a start. Her warrior instincts made her jump up, her hand on the hilt of her sword, before she realised that the source of the noise was only Alduin's sobs. She saw Alduin writhing under the blanket, his face contorted with visceral fear.
"I just wanted to play... with the toy." He sobbed in his endless nightmare. "Please... not... the stick... I'll be good."
The words, punctuated by silent sobs, were a stab in the back for Cassandra. She would never understand the cruelty of men and women towards the weak, regardless of their origin.
She pulled back the blanket, her hands, so accustomed to weapons, not really knowing what to do. She was a warrior, not a mother, and yet he saw her as a pillar, a kind of refuge.
She placed her right hand on his shoulder to gently wake him, but that simple touch made Alduin jump awake. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake, and she quickly regretted her action. Alduin looked at her with eyes full of terror, struggling like a trapped animal, his little fists pounding on her armour as if to push her away.
"Not the stick!" He sobbed, his heart pounding. "Not the stick... I'll be good..." He repeated as he took refuge against the trunk of a tree.
Cassandra stepped back, clearing her mind of all anger and frustration. With a deliberate movement, she undid the buckle of her belt and let her sword fall onto the damp grass. Then she removed her gauntlets, throwing them next to the sword.
She knelt a few metres away from him, respecting the distance he needed.
"Alduin." She said in a low voice, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "Look. Look at me. It's not the staff. It's Cassandra."
Alduin was caught between two worlds, reality and the shadow of the room completely lost. Tears streamed down his face, his small arms still raised protectively, trembling. He was looking at her, but at that moment, he saw the shadow that frightened him.
"Want... want... Plume." He sobbed, his cat's name being the only anchor of security he could think of. It was warm... warm... the only kind thing he missed. "Where's Plume?"
Cassandra felt her heart break. She couldn't give him his cat. She couldn't erase that memory with a wave of her hand.
Solas, who had also been awakened by Alduin's sobs, knelt beside Cassandra.
"The mark draws on her memories of pain." He said quietly to Cassandra. "It amplifies buried fears. It is an involuntary connection not only to the Fade, but also to the darkest corners of her mind."
"Is there anything we can do?" Cassandra asked, her voice thick with emotion.
"I cannot erase the memories or heal the mark. The only way for his to overcome her painful memories is to talk about them. But I can calm the storm, still the waters for a time."
He slowly approached Alduin, who was watching him. "Do you want to talk about it, da'len?" Solas asked with relative calm. "Sometimes giving shape to the shadows can help heal."
Alduin hesitated. To speak... to speak was to bring back the shadow that struck him with the staff. He shook his head vigorously from side to side.
"All right, I won't force you, Dal'en." He replied simply. "Then let me help you calm the storm for a while."
Solas raised his hand to Alduin's forehead, who looked at him suspiciously. A faint glow emanated from his fingers, a sleeping spell, an invitation to rest, a gentle barrier to chase away nightmares.
The tension left his shoulders, his arms fell slowly, his eyes closing. Solas caught the child's body before it slipped completely and lifted him with infinite gentleness.
He carried him to the blanket by the fire and laid him down with a delicacy that Cassandra envied.
"I'm so sorry, Da'len." He thought as he watched the flames dance, reflecting an orange glow in his pale eyes. "Sorry for the mark. Sorry for the fear. And sorry for the role I may still have to play in your destiny. You should never have touched my orb, an accident I regret so much. Will you ever forgive me? Will you even understand?"