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It was extremely late when they finally left the Circle Tower. Darkness had set in. As it had been more often lately, it wasn't the typical lack of light associated with nighttime. It felt oppressive and didn't help the negative mood that surrounded all four of them. The moon and stars were trying desperately to push their light through. Still, even the illumination from Wynne and Serana's staves were muffled glows. A bone-chilling wind blew in their faces and had them shivering by the time they disembarked the boat that had taken them back to the Lake Calenhad docks.
It was the Blight. And it was slowly robbing Ferelden of everything its people loved.
Alistair, Wynne, Leliana, and Serana were a mess. Their armor and clothing were covered in blood and gore, both human and demon alike. Serana's robes were so drenched in it they were wet, and the cloth stuck to her skin. It felt disgusting, and she wanted to rip the robes off. She glanced at Wynne, wanting to see how the only other mage in the group felt, and saw she was in no better shape.
Wynne's face echoed the sadness and exhaustion in her own. Even Leliana was quiet. She usually hummed or sang during their long journeys, but it was evident the tragedy in the Tower had affected her deeply. Alistair said nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. As they trudged back to where the others had set up camp, Wynne got into step next to her,
"Are you alright, Warden? "
"Warden is too formal, Wynne. Please, call me Serana."
"If you wish." Wynne hesitated. "The exchange between you and Templar Cullen, maybe it's none of my business, or you do not wish to discuss it, but, pardon my forwardness, I can see that it affected you greatly."
The emotions Serana had been working hard to push away were leaden in her stomach, trying to rise in her throat and choke the words from her lips. She blinked back tears.
"I-I… can't talk about it right now."
Wynne nodded, sorrow evident in her eyes. And then it happened. Serana flashed back to that terrible moment at the top of the Tower. Cullen behind that horrible magical cage. His eyes hollow and red, pure hatred on his face as he looked at her. The terrible things he shouted. People spoke ill of mages all the time, but she never thought he would believe such awful things of her. Or say them with such sharp, cold contempt that it felt like his sword had pierced her heart, leaving her bleeding to death at his feet.
"I am a templar, and you, a mage! It is my duty to oppose you and all that you are! And I am beyond caring what you think!"
Serana had been stunned into silence. Thankfully, Wynne took over the conversation and guided everyone back to reality by asking where Enchanter Irving and the surviving mages had gone. And it'd taken all of Serana's resolve to walk away from Cullen, to not say anything. To not cry. To not beg him to remember who she truly was. Who they had been together. She'd wanted to run and hug him, heal him. Make him her Cullen again. Seeing him in such pain shattered her, yet she knew he didn't want to be anywhere near her, or any other mages, anymore. Not without a sword between them.
She was so preoccupied with the memory that she barely noticed walking into the camp. Her mabari, Apollo, jumped on her, nearly sending her backward into Alistair. Apollo barked loudly and licked her face. It brought her back to life. She laughed a little and gave him a good bit of attention before heading toward her tent.
"It has been a long night. Rest will be welcome. "Wynne stated in a tired voice. She put her pack down and began setting up her own small shelter.
Leliana looked down at herself in disgust. "Ugh, I need a bath before I do anything else." Disappearing behind the leather flaps that covered where she slept, Leliana returned with her arms full of a change of clothes, a thick cloth to dry off, and some soap. "Privacy, please, gentleman." She called back as she headed towards the small river north of their campsite.
“Apollo, guard Leliana.” Serana said, pointing. He bounded off towards her eagerly, ready for duty. She heard Leliana's tinkling laugh, a pleasant sound after all the screaming they'd endured during their fight through the Tower.
Serana's hand wandered to the locket around her neck. Cullen had given it to her the night before she left the Tower with Duncan. A single tear trickled down Serana's cheek before she could stop it.
Feeling Alistair's eyes on her, Serana turned and entered her tent. No, she had to stay in control. Now was not the time to fall apart. There was too much at stake. Grabbing her own bathing items, Serana followed Leliana and Apollo and was soon distracted by Leliana singing, Apollo barking, and way too much splashing. Washing off the horrors of their night in the Circle Tower was calming, and giggling and talking with her favorite, former Orlesian bard and now best friend left Serana feeling refreshed.
However, after she'd changed into clean clothes and returned to put everything away, she was alone again, and an incredible ache welled up inside. She was sitting on her bedroll, listening to the laughter and talking of her companions from outside as they ate. Everyone left at the camp had woken up as soon as the group returned from the Tower, and Wynne appeared to be the only one able to calm back down and rest. Serana could tell that the destruction of the Tower, and the death of their friends and fellow mages, hurt Wynne just as profoundly as it had her.
Morrigan must have made something to eat as there was a clanking of silverware and dishes mixed in with the noisiness of their banter. Well, at least no one was arguing for once, she thought.
Serana made to get up and go outside to join them , but without warning, the ache inside crashed over her whole body like a massive wave of water pulling her under. Arms went numb, legs gave way. Collapsing back onto the ground, Serana's breathing was harsh, short, and hard, claustrophobia threatening to consume every ounce of oxygen and drag her into darkness. For a moment, she sat there, willing her breathing to slow, fighting to clear her vision.
Breathe, Serana, breathe.
It wasn't the first time she'd experienced a panic attack, but it'd been long since the last one.
Eyes closed, gasping for air, Serana heard Alistair's voice break through the haze of misery. Muffled by the layers of leather and fur she lay in, his baritone was a calm, deep rumble of words that didn't register, but the sound alone was soothing , and a vision of his sparkling brown eyes and warm smile swam in front of her crumbling sight.
Alistair.
It was the anchor she grabbed onto. Forcing herself to take longer breaths, Serana fought back until her breathing slowed and her eyesight became clear again. There was still a tightness in her lungs and a lump in her throat where the tears wanted to return, but no, she had to keep going. She must be strong.
Okay, I can do this. I am a Grey Warden, and I cannot let this paralyze me.
With only a slight sway, Serana stood up and opened the flap of her tent, grabbing her staff, intending to walk out towards the campfire. Taking a few steps forward, Serana saw Leliana, Alistair, Zevran, and Apollo around the campfire, chatting animatedly. It looked like Leliana was telling another story.
For a moment, Serana stood watching Alistair through the distorted heat from the fire, bright sparks of smoldering embers flying upward to disappear into the gloom of the night sky. Her hand absentmindedly wandered again to the locket still around her neck. The cold metal was a trigger, bringing her back to the moment Cullen gave it to her.
It was no use. The tears were going to come.
Choking back the onslaught of emotion, her desperation to hide from her companions pushed her to run as she turned to go anywhere but where they were. And without much thought, her feet guided her toward the eastern part of the camp, where a small hill overlooked the little valley they were in.
Tears cascaded down her face before she reached a spot where she felt safe to simply collapse and cry. Sobs shook her entire body as she fell onto her side and curled up into a ball, weeping. For how long she lay there, she didn't know. She hadn't chosen to be born a mage, hadn't decided to be one of the last Grey Wardens left in this Maker-forsaken country. Now a pariah. Believed a traitor. She felt so alone. And now her friends were dead or turned into demons. And the one man she had thought she could have loved now hated her simply because she had the curse of magic. And to think, for so long, she'd considered it a gift.
I'm such an idiot, she thought. After all the bloodshed she saw in the Tower, the horrors inflicted on innocents, and then the way Cullen had shouted at her with such fury and disgust, she didn't see magic as a gift any longer. It didn't make her unique. It made people afraid of her. How could she have been so naïve, so foolish?
In a flash, her sadness turned to anger. Serana ripped the locket from her neck and threw it hard into the darkness, not even looking where it went.
"Oww!" The voice startled her, and she stood up fast, reaching immediately for her staff. Then she saw the blonde hair. With his face slightly shadowed, Alistair was standing a few feet away, rubbing his cheek, holding a mug. Liquid was dripping down his Grey Warden chest plate, a silver shimmer only visible by the pale moonlight.
"Alistair!" She exclaimed, "Andraste's mercy! I'm so sorry!"
"Well, if I had realized just how much you didn't want company, I'd have stayed away." He chuckled. Then he looked down at the tea dripping off of him. "I intended to bring you some hot tea to drink, but, alas, I think it may have just ended up all over my armor. Of course, if you're so inclined, you could lick it off."
Serana blinked, unsure what to say, but seeing the smirk on his face, she started to laugh. "I think I'll pass, thanks." She sat back down, dropping her staff, the sudden surge of adrenaline fading.
Alistair reached down in the grass and picked up the locket. He hesitated and then walked towards her. "Could I talk to you a moment?" He asked.
"Oh! Um, sure." She responded, quickly wiping the wetness that still clung to her cheeks. "Here." She touched her staff, now lying next to her on the ground, and a soft light emanated from the crystal orb at the top. "Now you can see. We don't need you falling down and breaking something."
Alistair laughed. "Hey, I'm not that bad at walking and using my legs."
"Oh, really, all those traps you've walked into that required me to heal massive injuries on both legs, that was on purpose?" Serana asked sardonically, temporarily forgetting about her sorrow. She couldn't help but grin at the continued klutziness of a well-trained templar warrior. And enjoy teasing him about it.
"Alright, fair enough." Alistair grinned, sitting down next to her. He handed over the mug of what was left of the tea. "I don't know if you still want this."
Serana grasped the handle and, putting it to her dry lips, took a small sip. He'd sweetened it with some honey, just how she liked it.
I can't believe he remembered.
"It's good. I'm sorry I spilled most of it on you."
"I'm not the best cook, but I'm good with beverages." The smile in his voice faded as Alistair turned to look directly at her. There was gentle concern on his handsome features, his voice softening. "And, well, you seemed like you needed it." Alistair faltered briefly but then went on. "I'm so sorry, Serana. I can't imagine seeing what happened at the Tower was easy for you. In fact, it was hard for us, so I know it was so much worse for you. To see your friends..."
And with that, the day's memories came rushing back like a splash of icy water to the face. Serana dropped her gaze and said nothing.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Alistair held up the golden locket. It twinkled in the magical light from her staff, swinging gently as it hung in the air between them. "I, uh, take it you don't want this anymore."
Swallowing the last sip of tea, Serana felt cold again. Head still down, she let her vision drift out of focus. "No."
There was another minute of quiet between them as Alistair slowly put the piece of jewelry onto the grass beside him. The winds spoke calmly through the trees, their leaves shifting gracefully , and for a moment, it was all very surreal, like those times when life doesn't feel like it's happening to you, just around you, as you watch, floating, yet trapped, unable to stop it.
The camp fire was an orange glow in the distance. Laughter traveled to them, along with Shale's annoyed voice. Serana felt removed from it all. She was tired—so very tired.
"May I ask you a personal question?" Alistair's voice was once again startling in the stillness of the night. "I mean, I'm not sure... it's just that you…" He stumbled over his words and trailed off, obviously nervous.
"You want to know about the locket," Serana stated quietly.
"It's just…we all saw the exchange between you and the templar at the Tower. Cullen?"
Serana nodded, her eyes on the mug still in her hands.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
"You seemed incredibly upset at his words, and it wasn't as if he was just speaking about mages and magic in general. It was as if he was talking specifically about...you," Alistair paused, "Like he was talking about you and him." His tone was kind and gentle. Serana could sense the hesitation before he spoke again.
"Did he...give you this locket?"
Serana felt his gaze but wouldn't look at him. Instead, she stared into the night sky, at the stars trying to burst through scattered, heavy clouds, cursing the tears that began to trickle down her cheeks again.
"Yes." She managed to whisper, unable to mask the sadness saturating every part of her being as the tears spilled out. Immediately, Alistair was appalled at his questioning, causing her to cry.
"I'm so sorry, Serana. It's none of my business. Maker's breath, please forgive me, and please forget I asked. I never wanted to cause you more pain. I-I only-"He made a move to get up.
Serana grabbed his hand, a reflex without thought. "No. Please, Alistair. Don't-don't go."
They stared at each other momentarily in the soft light still emanating from her staff. His eyes were dark, but there was something in them that she hadn't seen in all the time they had been together since Ostagar. Care? Worry? Something more than just a friend's concern?
Suddenly, Serana was aware she was still holding his hand and quickly let go.
"I think I do need to talk about it, and you are one of the few friends I fear I have left in this chaotic world."
To her surprise, Alistair looked taken aback. "You consider me a friend?"
Serana laughed despite herself. "Why wouldn't I? You are the only other Grey Warden I know, so you understand my suffering from the taint. We survived Ostagar together, barely, and we've been fighting and traveling together for months now, trying to save what's left of this stupid world while half the country wants to execute us as traitors. How can we have gone through all that together, have each other's backs in battle, and not be friends? If that doesn't build a bond, I don't know what does. I mean, Alistair, I've never forgotten what happened in the Tower of Ishal...we-we almost died...in each other's arms. And for a while, all we had was each other."
There was silence. The quietness of that moment after two people open up to one another, where the truth is finally spoken aloud. Things already known but never acknowledged. And again, they simply looked at one another as though the realization of what was actually between them was beginning to show. Whatever that was, it was a closeness, a bond beyond friendship, something only the two of them could ever understand.
Alistair gave her a shy, slightly crooked, a little sheepish, and incredibly tender smile. And as Serana returned it, the spark of something ignited briefly between them.
Alistair broke his gaze from hers, shifting around where he sat on the grass. Alistair cleared his throat and spoke in a light tone. A blatant attempt to break the tension. "Well, usually, you just seem annoyed with me. Especially at my hilarious jokes and excellent ability to find and walk into all existing defensive traps." At that, he looked at her and grinned.
"That's such a lie! Don't make me sound like Morrigan!" She playfully pushed him in the chest.
"You're nothing like her. She's an utter bitch!" That angry, loud, exclamatory statement coming from Alistair's usually glib tongue caught Serana off guard, and she froze for a split second before falling over in laughter.
Then they laughed, and all awkward emotion in the air was gone. The weight on Serana's heart lifted, and she was calmer.
A stomping sound echoed in the distance from Shale's footsteps, signifying the golem had taken up her nightly guard duty , but the talking from the rest of the camp had faded. Everyone must have finally gone to bed.
"Cullen and I had….something." Serana began, lifting her face up towards the sky. Somehow, Alistair was giving her the strength to say the words she knew she needed to. "I know you trained to be a templar, but you didn't experience living in a Circle like I did. I can't describe it, but you're with the same people day and night, both templars and mages, for your entire life. And, it's a world totally cut off from this." She gestured around them. "Some of us can leave and return for various tasks or jobs, but typically, the Tower is your entire life. Those oppressive stone walls. The rooms and repetitive hallways. The people. It's all you know."
Sighing, Serana continued, looking down at the grass and running her hands through her hair. "Some templars hate mages, despise magic, and they show it. Others are kind but disinterested, almost bored. They do their job to serve the Maker, and that's it. Then you have the templars and mages who actually enjoy each other's company despite the rules against fraternization. And," She paused and took a breath, "I don't know when or how it happened, but something…developed….between Cullen and I. It wasn't like we were in love. Maybe we could have been, but neither of us had acknowledged it in words. We had to spend so much time together, but he was basically my guard. And I was his charge. It was only right before my Harrowing that we... Well, the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter had a way of overlooking such things as long as it didn't interfere with daily duties and activities or caused serious issues."
She didn't look at Alistair, but she could sense he was just sitting there, waiting for her to continue, letting her say what she had to.
"It's not like we were able to spend much time together. Most mages and templars who want to be together do a great deal of sneaking around. Cullen was never one for breaking the rules, even though I knew I was his one weakness. He's a good man, very dedicated to his vows to serve the Chantry and the Maker. He-he gave me the locket the last night I was at the Circle Tower before I left for Ostagar with Duncan. A way to say goodbye..."
She stumbled at these words, the sorrow returning as she remembered that night. "It was the first….and only time he truly showed what he felt for me. We had one real moment where we got to be together, and then I had to leave. So, today, when I see him for the first time since that night, broken and in so much pain, and then he says all those hateful things about mages and... and about not caring about me or what I thought….it was an incredible shock. The Cullen I cherished was kind, empathetic, compassionate, and strong in his faith but fair in his views of magic and the Chantry. He didn't hate mages. He simply respected the power we wielded and knew that everyone needed protection against the possibility of possession and blood magic, amongst other things. The Cullen we saw...he wasn't the man I knew."
Alistair still said nothing, and Serana shook her head, looking back up into the blackness of the sky, "I used to think my magic was a gift. But, after today, after Cullen, after all that the blood mages and demons inflicted on innocent people….I mean, we ourselves experienced it, getting thrown into the Fade and then having to fight our way back out." She finally looked at Alistair and saw his eyes look bright, the sorrow evident even in shadow. "How can I think my magic is anything but a curse? Cullen hates me. People are dead. So-so many people." Her voice was beginning to break again. "My-my friends. My teachers. Dead. Turned into abominations. I can't blame Cullen for what he said because he's right. My magic. Alistair…. it's evil." The last few words came out in a whisper.
And the tears came, and she didn't bother wiping them away, each rolling faster down her cheeks. Staring back down into the grass, she didn't know what else to say, and for a moment, Alistair didn't appear to either.
Then she felt a hand on her face as he gently turned her back so that she was looking directly into his eyes.
"What happened today was not your fault, Serana. You helped save everyone that you could. You didn't summon demons or use blood magic, even at the risk of your own death. You fought so hard against that evil, killing people you once called friends. You showed so much mercy, courage, and strength. You used your magic to save and heal. Cullen is wrong. Your magic is a gift. It will never be a curse. And you, a mage, have been the one shining light amidst all this terrible darkness, especially for me. You've kept me going on days when everything was black, and things seemed hopeless. When I feel like I've lost it all I ever had. And then I see you. And you shine so bright, love. Remember that. Because I won't ever let you forget it."
His words washed over her like warm sunshine, and for a split second, she stared into those deep brown eyes that showed nothing but kindness, sincerity, and love. Then, without warning, Serana threw her arms around him, burying her head in his neck and letting the tears spill. Alistair didn't hesitate in his response. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, his face in her hair, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and he didn't let go.