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Alistair pulls his hood down over his face in an effort to hide from his pursuers and to protect himself from the heavy rain. He's already made the decision not to pass through Crestwood village in order to avoid drawing too much attention to himself, but it means he can’t spend the night at the local inn. To his relief, there are enough caves in the mountains that he won't need to set up camp under the pouring rain. He even manages to find an abandoned camp, left behind by some unfortunate smugglers who have no doubt gotten spooked by the swarm of undead pouring out of the lake. They might return eventually, once the situation has returned to normal, but it doesn't really matter, in the end — Alistair isn't planning on staying that long.
After making sure that the hideout's previous occupants didn't leave any traps, Alistair settles down in the back of the cave. Lighting a small fire, he briefly goes over his discoveries before his eyes grow heavy and a yawn breaks from him, his body urging him to get some rest. Yet, he finds it difficult to fall asleep tonight, his mind not only anticipating an attack from the Grey Wardens, but also preoccupied with the nightmares that have started haunting him again over the past few months. The song of the Archdemon is loud. It echoes in his mind like a drum beating close to his ear. Tossing around on his cot, he tries to chase it away. He focuses his attention on the ambient sounds around him. The rain outside of the cave is faint, almost drowned out by the crackling fire, but it still reaches his keen senses. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he remembers a stormy night, years ago, that was much like this one, with heavy rain and nightmares keeping him awake. Back during the Blight, however, he didn't have to go through it alone.
It was still dark when he awoke that night, shaking and sweating, a sense of dread settling down in his gut before he could find his bearings. Damn this Blight. As if regular darkspawn dreams weren’t enough, he also had to contend with an Archdemon staring into his soul every time he so much as closed his eyes.
Taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, Alistair concentrates on the tap-tap of the rain on the fabric of his tent. As far back as he could remember, he'd always found the falling rain a soothing sight. He'd spent countless hours watching droplets slide down the stone walls of Redcliffe Castle during his childhood. But that night, something felt off to him. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it until he heard the sound of thunder in the distance, closely followed by a squeak coming from the nearest tent where his fellow warden was supposedly sleeping.
Sitting up, he rubbed his still sleepy eyes and turned his attention towards the faint glow of a lantern shining in the dark. Sereda might have been awake for a while, if she'd slept at all. Odds were, she too was suffering from the Blight tonight. While they had both, sadly, grown accustomed to those annoying nightly headaches in the weeks that had followed the Battle of Ostagar, his companion was a dwarf, and she had yet to fully comprehend the concept of dreams, let alone having bad ones.
Another roll of thunder, another muffled cry. Alistair frowned. If she was already awake, then maybe there was more to it than a mere darkspawn dream, he realised. After the third crack, he decided to check up on her. He quickly put his clothes on and walked out into the storm where he was immediately assaulted by the rain slashing at his face like a whip.
He could make out the soft shape of his friend's silhouette on the other side of her tent, hugging Barkspawn like a drowning man held onto a piece of driftwood. Without giving it much thought other than needing to find shelter from the rain lest he caught a nasty cold, Alistair pulled open the flap of the tent with precipitated swiftness. At the sight of him, Sereda let out a high-pitched scream strong enough to rival with a darkspawn shriek and quickly reached for her dagger. She was ready to cut him open when Alistair threw his hands up in a show of good faith.
“It's just me!”
“What's going on?” Leliana's voice echoed through the rain, ready to fight whatever creature was attacking her friends.
“Nothing, it was only another bad dream. You can go back to sleep,” Sereda replied before giving the intruder an exasperated look. “By the Ancestors, Alistair, you scared me half to death!” She stared at him, her eyes wide with lingering fear. “You could have warned me before coming in. What if I'd been naked or… doing… stuff.”
Despite the freezing rain, Alistair felt a wave of heat creeping up his neck. “Sorry! I'm sorry, I just… I thought I heard… Are you all right?”
She eyed him up and down, briefly pausing on the shirt that clung to his chest. “You're soaking wet,” she pointed out.
He let out a small chuckle. “Well, in case you missed it, it's raining outside.” Sereda flinched at the reminder and Alistair's smile vanished. As he observed her more closely, it became clear by her wet, puffy, red-rimmed eyes that she'd been crying for a while now. “May I— may I come in?”
She replied with a quick nod and Alistair crawled inside of the tent before closing the flap behind him. He took his muddy boots off and sat down next to his friend who proceeded to drape a warm blanket over his wet shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Scratching Barkspawn behind the ears, he waited for her to make the first step. He knew from personal experience that forcing someone to open up about their anxieties rarely led to a positive outcome. Patience, care and understanding were the key to healing, and while he wasn't an expert counsellor, Alistair was a good listener and his shoulders were large enough that he could offer them for her to cry on.
“You're going to think I'm stupid,” she mumbled. “The poor, spoiled little princess who can't handle the harshness of the outside world.”
“I don't think you're stupid. And I've seen you in a fight, you can handle yourself better than me.” He placed a tentative hand over hers. When she didn't pull back, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “What I think is that you need a little more time to adjust to the surface world. No doubt everything is very different where you come from, and I’m not just talking about the rain.”
Alistair had never visited Orzammar, the magnificent dwarven city, before but he'd heard stories from the other wardens. If they were to be believed, the dwarven folk were stubborn and superstitious. What they weren't, however, was cowardly. They took great pride in their people's accomplishments both in combat and in manual labour.
“It's just that…” She sniffled, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “I know there's nothing to fear. I've read about it in a book some merchant imported from the surface once. I know the sky isn't going to swallow me. I know it's just water falling, but… But water isn't supposed to come from up there!” She pointed in anger towards the sky. “It comes from the ground! From springs and lakes and rivers!” Thunder roared again but this time, instead of being scared, Sereda sneered like a woman scorned. “And those explosions! What if there's something actually wrong with the sky and it's only a matter of time before it rips open like a pair of tight breeches?”
As if controlled by a divine force, the sky lit up again. It was getting closer, Alistair noticed. Bakspawn laid his head down on his mistress' lap in an attempt to be a reassuring presence for her.
“I know you already have your mighty mabari war hound to protect you, but I could also stay with you tonight if you think it could bring you some comfort,” Alistair suggested, his voice surprisingly steady considering what he was suggesting. “Nothing inappropriate or anything. I was just thinking that since I'm big and strong, I'm less likely to get swallowed up if the sky does tear open. So you can just hold on to me really tight and I’ll keep you grounded.”
A shy smile lit up her pretty face. “All right.”
Alistair lay down next to her, facing her, and curdled up under his blanket. Barkspawn settled down on the other side, not before giving the newcomer a suspicious look for taking up space in the cramped tent.
“Do you mind if we keep the lantern lit?” she asked. “I don't think I could sleep in complete darkness tonight.”
“Of course not.”
Her hand reached out for him, grabbing his arm in a strong grip, as another thunderbolt echoed through the night.
“You know,” he murmured, “I was told a story when I was a child that explained where thunder came from. Do you want to hear it?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“A long, long time ago, in a faraway land, lived two dragon families who had been waging war against each other for many generations.”
“Why were they at war?”
“I don't know, they'd been at it for so long that even they might not remember why they were fighting.”
“Maybe one of them had stolen the last cheese wheel.”
“Ah yes, the infamous Cheese Crisis, that must be it,” Alistair laughed. “Anyway, the youngest of each clan met one day while they were out hunting in the wilderness, but they were scholars and neither of them had ever been the aggressive sort. So instead of fighting like the rest of their people would have, they sat down together in a nice little clearing. One thing leading to another, the two young dragons fell madly in love with each other.”
“Aww, that's sweet.”
“It was until their respective families discovered their secret love affair. They weren't happy about it, let me tell you.”
“Did they fight?”
“Yes. There was a violent battle, more brutal than any they'd fought in the past. The dragons ravaged the land. They levelled mountains and destroyed entire forests. They set the world aflame, scorching the earth with their dragon breath.”
“Are you trying to say that thunder comes from dragons fighting each other? That's the opposite of reassuring, Alistair!”
“Let me finish.” He pressed a finger over her lips to quiet her. “When the battle was over, there was nothing left of the land they'd once inhabited. Unable to live there anymore, both families decided to abandon their home and settled down in different regions. The two lovers followed them, heartbroken at the thought of being separated for the rest of their lives.” Alistair paused to watch a small tear slide quietly down her face. “But that was without counting on their resilience. The clearing where they’d met was still standing and, whenever they were able to sneak away from their oppressing families, they would both journey there and find each other again. So you see, that’s all thunder is: two lovers’ tearful reunion.”
The sky groaned once more, sounding more than ever like a dragon’s cry. This time, Sereda didn't jump. She smiled at him, that shy, beautiful smile that filled his dreams when the darkspawn weren't around to spoil everything. The hairs on her arm stood up as goosebumps spread across her body. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, only now noticing just how close they were to each other.
“What a very sad but sweet little story. Thank you, Alistair,” she whispered as they both drifted off to sleep.
Alistair smiles fondly at the memory of his lady love, wondering what she would think now that the sky has actually been torn open. In the distance, a clap of thunder pulls him out of his reverie. Maker, how he misses her. But he takes comfort in knowing that she's far away from all of this, that she's safe — or as safe as one can be while travelling into distant, mysterious, uncharted lands. He knows it's only a matter of time before they see each other again and, like dragons in the sky, their reunion will shake the heavens.