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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight	By : Serena_Hawke-Theirin Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 13108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Alistair hoped to get the opportunity to speak to Solona the morning they left the forest near Lake Calenhad Docks, but it never presented itself. While the men sat around what was left of the campfire eating breakfast, she took her meal in her tent. He had intended to help her break down her shelter once he was finished with his own, but by the time he had gotten to her, she was already packed and ready to go. She was efficient, he had to give her that. When he did eventually approach her as they were about to leave, her expression told him she had absolutely no interest in idle chatter, so he backed off.

When Duncan finally announced it was time to move out, the mage took the lead without anyone prompting her. It had been Alistair's duty to be in that position, but she seemed more comfortable there. The commander didn't seem to care one way or the other, so the young warrior didn't argue. Besides, he really didn't mind following someone else for a change. Of course, if he were to sense any darkspawn in the area or if they were ever in any real danger, he would take the role of second in command. But he didn't see a need as long as they were just trekking along down the road.

Nothing really changed over the following few days. They would wake just before dawn, eat a quick breakfast before packing up then travel until dusk only to make camp again. Solona pretty much kept to herself that whole time. Alistair knew the journey couldn't have been easy for the mage, but she never complained, not even once. Daveth, on the other hand, bellyached enough for all five of them.

By the end of the fourth day, the young warrior noticed Solona's gait had changed. Although she still walked with her usual determination, her strides had become a bit slower. She appeared to put more effort into each step.

When Jory sped up to pass her, Alistair stopped him with a hand to the knight's chest and a waggle of his head. The woman was clearly in physical pain, and he wouldn't allow anyone to cause her embarrassment over it. Because of her struggles, she would be the one to set the pace for the entire group.

By the time they came to the village of Wenborne on the seventh day, Solona was hobbling. After speaking to one of the village guards, Duncan marched to the front of the procession and led them all to a small shop near the center of town. The store held a meager stock of the usual fare-travel rations, a shelf lined with small jars of herbs and sweets, a modest selection of fishing gear and farming tools, larder staples, a few bolts of linen and wool, and a paltry selection of clothing and boots in only the most popular sizes. The only thing wearable in the entire shop that looked like it was made for a woman was a pair of silk stockings, and they were outrageously priced.

When the merchant appeared from the back room, he immediately seemed wary of the five strangers who had darkened his door, but he still managed a tight-lipped smile when he asked the commander if he could help him. Duncan indicated to Solona with a small nod of his head.

"Yes, I am looking for some clothing for the young lady and a pair of sturdy traveling boots."

The merchant waggled his head. "I'm sorry, ser, but I don't get much call for women's clothes. Most here in Wenborne make their own. I might have some boots, though." He reached into the cabinet beneath the bar he was standing behind. "Just let me get my cord so I can measure the young lady's foot." He pulled out a short piece of rope with knots tied throughout its length then addressed Solona directly. "I'll need you to remove those boots if I'm to get an accurate measurement though."

The mage bobbed her head in response and reached down to pull off her boots. She winced with pain as her left foot slid out of the poorly stitched leather. A slight gasp escaped Alistair's lips when he saw the abundant crimson stains on her wool stocking. It was no wonder she had been hobbling, he was surprised she could even walk with her feet in that condition.

The shopkeeper grimaced at the sight and took a step back when Solona stuck her foot forward for him to measure. No one said a word as the mage's face began to take on a reddish hue. Alistair couldn't tell if she was mortified or angry. Either way, he wasn't about to let her just sit there and suffer like that.

He approached her and dropped to his knees at her side before unburdening the pack from his shoulders and addressing the merchant.

"Ser, could I trouble you for a basin of water?" the young Warden asked.

"Of course," the man nodded. His sour expression had softened to one of pity. "Right away."

While the proprietor was fetching the water, Alistair attempted to peel away the exposed stocking. Solona sucked in a quick breath through gritted teeth and jerked her foot away.

"Leave me alone," she demanded. "I'm fine."

He scowled at her. "Look, I appreciate the fact that you're trying to be all brave and tough and independent, but if you don't let me help you now, I'm just going to end up carrying you all over the place later. I'll throw my back out, then we'll both need to be carried around everywhere. Pretty soon, we'll all be crippled and then we'll never get to Ostagar. Nobody wants that."

Solona rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. But if you hurt me, I'll shove my foot up your ass."

"Well, that seems counterproductive," he joked. "Not only would that make it hurt worse, but you'd probably end up with a nasty infection. I haven't bathed in over a week."

She wrinkled her nose with disgust and shook her head. "There's something seriously wrong with you. You know that, don't you?"

He shrugged as he gingerly stripped off the stocking. "People keep saying that. I don't see it, but what do I know?"

The mage cringed from the pain, but she didn't pull away again. Alistair gagged a bit when some of Solona's skin came off with the sock as he peeled it from her foot, but he managed to maintain his constitution. He repeated the process with her left foot, which was just as bad as the right.

He wanted to cry for her. It looked as if several blisters had formed on her heels and the balls of her feet and then popped and reformed several times over. He couldn't even fathom the agony she must have experienced, but she never complained. Not even once.

"Dear sweet Andraste," Jory exclaimed. "It looks like they've been put through a meat grinder."

Those words must have struck a chord with Daveth because he slapped his hand over his mouth and ran for the door. He hadn't even cleared the exit completely before the sounds of his heaving began echoing through the shop. Alistair did his best to ignore the thief and pulled a clean shirt and a small pouch of healing herbs from his pack.

He tore the garment into strips before dropping a few elfroot leaves into the basin of water the shopkeeper had delivered. Slowly, carefully, the young Warden lowered Solona's left foot toward the large bowl. He took a deep breath and ran his tongue across his lips.

"This is going to sting a bit," he told her.

She sucked in a hard breath, bracing herself for the pain she knew was about to befall her. "Just do it."

The mage gasped, her face twisting in agony as her foot was immersed in the cool liquid. Alistair wiped it clean as quickly and gently as he could. Solona's chest and shoulders heaved up and down with her panting. The warrior peered up at her with a sympathetic smile only to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

Duncan handed her a potion vial. "Drink this. It will help with the pain."

Without questioning the contents of the bottle, the mage opened her mouth and gulped down the pale green liquid. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and her face contorted in revulsion. Scraping her tongue across her lips and teeth, she spat to the side in attempt to rid the foul taste in her mouth.

"That may be the most vile thing I have ever tasted in my life," she complained. "Did you add one of Alistair's socks for extra flavoring when you mixed that potion?"

The commander produced a thoughtful frown. "That was actually given to me by Irving. He told me his finest healer made it for him some time ago."

Solona shook her head. "Figures," she harrumphed. "One of Anders' pranks."

"I take it you know the perpetrator of this joke?" Alistair questioned as he began to wrap her feet with dry segments of cloth.

"I don't want to talk about it," she huffed with a scowl.

There was apparently a story there. From the expression Solona wore, he gathered that it was an extremely unpleasant one. He recognized that look. It was the same one she bore more often than not. The one that prevented him from speaking to her most of the time. Was this Anders the reason she was so bitter and angry?

When Alistair was finished bandaging the mage's feet a few moments later, he gave the side of her calf a gentle pat. "There. All done."

"Thank you," she mumbled with an anguished expression.

He acknowledged her gesture with a reflective smile and a small nod. Alistair knew full well the face she made was due to the fact that she felt obligated to say those words to him. It was something she was obviously not prone to do often, if at all, and he wasn't about to make a big deal out of it.

"Just relax for a few minutes while the merchant takes your measurement," he told her. He turned his eyes to the shopkeeper with a glower of warning. "I'm sure he'll be extra careful in the task."

The man bobbed his head, his countenance showing that he fully understood the meaning behind Alistair's glare. "Of course, ser. She'll hardly notice a thing."

As the proprietor worked on measuring the mage's feet, Alistair went to the shelf where the scant supply of medical kits were housed. He chose one which contained only strips of cloth for bandaging and a small jar of healing salve. It was exactly what Solona would need and, as luck would have it, the least expensive kit there. The price of it wouldn't have been so important if it weren't for the other thing he intended to purchase.

The young Warden placed the medical kit on the front counter then checked the meager contents of his coin purse.

Just enough.

After dumping his coin onto the counter, Alistair grabbed the items he wanted before making his way back to Solona. He shoved the medical supplies into his pack and handed her a rolled up bundle of silk.

"Here," he said. "I thought you could use these."

She unfurled the delicate ball to reveal a pair of well-made silk stockings. Her brow arched questioningly. Damn, he hadn't even thought about what that gift might imply. He ran his hand through his sandy-blonde hair and nervously licked his lips.

"It…it's not what you think," he stammered. "They're to protect your feet…after the bandages come off. You wear them under your regular stockings and they keep the wool from rubbing your skin raw."

She shrugged her shoulders then rolled the hose back into a tight ball, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. She didn't thank him, but she didn't need to. It was enough that his gift would keep her from getting into that situation again. It took every last copper he had, but it was definitely worth it. Alistair believed that no one should ever be made to suffer through such an affliction.

Before they left the shop, Duncan purchased Solona a pair of good, sturdy walking boots, a couple of pairs of men's trousers, two linen shirts, a belt, new wool stockings, and a traveling cloak. Afterward, the five of them headed to a rundown but relatively clean inn near the outskirts of the village where they were treated to a hot meal of lamb and pea stew with freshly baked bread and a pint of ale each.

Alistair declined the hunk of cheese that came standard with the fare in favor of another piece of bread with fresh honey butter. He never really liked cheese. In fact, it came in second only to blueberries as his least favorite food.

After they were finished with their supper, Duncan rented two rooms and paid for each of them to have a bath. The four men shared quarters while Solona got her own. Out of courtesy, the men agreed to allow the mage use the bathing room first, then they took turns in order of their rank. Daveth was less than happy about the fact that he had to go last, and made it a point to make his displeasure of the situation known.

While Duncan was bathing, Alistair went to Solona's room and offered to change her bandages, but she declined his aid.

"I may not be skilled in healing magic," she informed him with her usual haughtiness. "But I think I am capable enough to wrap my own feet in some cloth."

He handed her the small jar of salve he had purchased. "At least use this. It will help."

She rolled her eyes and snatched it from him. "Fine. If it will get you off my back."

The Warden expected her to slam the door in his face, but she just continued to stand there looking up at him, her lapis eyes half hidden under a cascade of damp fringe. Solona's makeup, which she apparently had to apply every morning no matter what she was planning to do for the day, had all been washed from her face and her dark, wet hair fell loosely across her shoulders. Her natural beauty was absolutely breathtaking.

She glowered at him. "What? Are you expecting a kiss for all your good deeds?"

He shrugged and flashed a boyish smirk. "I suppose that's up to you, but I wouldn't kiss me until after I've had a bath. My own eyes are beginning to water from the smell."

She cocked a brow and waggled her head. "There is most definitely something wrong with you."

He waved his hand in front of his nose. "I think I already mentioned the stench. Careful you don't get too close. I'd hate to try to explain to Duncan the reason for your untimely demise."

She gave a small chuckle as she reached for the door and stepped back into her room. "Goodnight, Alistair," she told him before shutting herself in for the evening.

He knew she thought him a fool, but at least he got her to smile again. That small change in her expression, her attitude, no matter how temporary, was most certainly worth it. They were only a week away from Ostagar, and Alistair had the feeling that her rare smiles were about become even fewer and farther between.

Alistair hated the fact that people thought he loved cheese so much. People were forever bringing him gifts of the stuff, and he was always too nice to decline any of it. The truth was, it was an inside joke of Varric's that he decided to write into "The Tale of the Warden".

I used to complain sometimes about Alistair's whining when he was being especially taxing. I adored the man, but he could be a bit of a prat at times. During one of those instances, Varric suggested that I should buy him some cheese to go with his whine. And that, my friends, is how the whole mess started.

-G
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight