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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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Solona awoke in her tent sometime later. The pounding in her head felt as if someone had attempted to bash it in with a war hammer. Heavy brown canvas surrounded her on all sides. She closed her eyes and scraped the tips of her fingers across dampened, dead grass causing muck to cake beneath her nails. She was most certainly not in her own bed.

Where in the void am I?

Everything looked so unfamiliar, so foreign. The only thing she could recall was the image of a great dragon perched atop a stone bridge, lifting its head to the sky with a resounding roar. It had been a terrifying dream. There had been a voice. She heard a man speaking quietly in the darkness. What were the words? A prayer of some sort? She couldn't quite remember.

The mage attempted to roll onto her side. Every muscle in her body wrenched in agony with the effort. She couldn't do it. It hurt too much. Her guts twisted with nausea and pain, as if they were fighting off some sort of illness. Was she sick? She had suffered through influenza as a child, but this…this was far worse. She felt confused, exhausted and weak, queasy and sore, the way Anders' had once described the effects of the worst and most effective poisons to her.

"Hey," she heard a familiar voice say. It was the one from her strange dream. "You're awake."

Alistair.

It all came back to her like a torrential flood breaking through a cracked dam. The Grey Wardens. The Darkspawn. Jory and Daveth. The silver cup full of foul smelling liquid she drank from. The inevitable pull off the abyss. Alistair's voice calling her back. It was all there. All real.

The young warrior's face appeared to her left as he knelt down next to her bedroll. He held out a small leaf for her to take. "Here, chew on this," he instructed. "It'll help with the queasiness."

She already felt like she had been poisoned. In a way, she supposed she had, which made her wary about any more "tests" the Wardens might require of her. She wasn't about to ingest anything else without knowing what it was first. She scowled at the plant.

The left corner of his mouth curled into a knowing half smile. "It's peppermint," he explained. "It helps. Trust me."

She lifted her hand to take his offering and winced in pain from the effort. Once in her fingers, she studied the gift for a long moment, trying to discern the truth of his words. He chuckled.

"Go on, take a whiff. You do know what peppermint smells like, don't you?"

Solona rolled her eyes, but immediately regretted it. It felt as if her brain had exploded inside her skull. A wave of bile rose up from her stomach, burning like acid as it traveled toward her mouth. She closed her lids and forced it back down with a torturous gulp. Her entire esophagus felt as if it were on fire.

"O…of course I do," she finally managed as her eyes fluttered open. The sound of her own creaking voice echoing in her head was both painful and unfamiliar. "I…I'm not an idiot."

Alistair waggled his head, the goofy smile never leaving his face. If she thought she could get away with punching him without causing herself more pain, she would have at that moment. Then, she noticed something. There was a glisten to those hazel-green orbs. Had he been crying? That's when she realized the grin he wore wasn't born of amusement, but utter relief.

He took the leaf from her fingers and moved it toward her face then waved it beneath her nostrils. "See? Peppermint."

He lowered it to her lips, but she bit down on them with a grimace. "N…no," she stammered. "W…water…please."

He brushed the hair from her forehead with his free hand, his brow creased with sympathy. "I know that's what you think you want right now, but trust me, you really don't. If your stomach isn't settled at least a bit, you're not going to keep it down. That's pain you never want to experience. Believe me, I found that out the hard way."

Another wave of acrid vomit tried to make its way up, causing her entire chest to erupt with tormenting agony. Solona's whole body began thrashing against the pain. Her heart raced so fast and hard, she thought it would burst through her ribcage. That's when she came to the realization, she was going to die.

Alistair straddled her torso, taking great care to ensure the bulk of his weight remained on his knees, and held her head down on her pillow with his hand to her forehead. No longer caring to gain her permission, he stuffed the leaf into the side of her mouth on the outside of her clenched teeth.

Shh. The sound was measured and soothing. His lids narrowed as his piercing gaze locked onto her eyes. He licked his lips. "Calm down, Solona. Breathe." He inhaled deeply to serve as an example for her, his broad chest swelling with the effort. "Long, slow breaths."

Her eyes widened as she gasped for air. She felt his thumb softly caress her cheek while his stare became more intense. She couldn't do it. Every pant brought the darkness closer. It was no use. She tried to jerk her face away, but Alistair's grip on her forehead tightened.

"Look at me," he hissed. "You've got this."

Those were the words she heard during the Joining. The words that gave her courage and hope. After seeing Jory fall to his death, she had lost her confidence. If an honorable man, a knight, could be taken like that, what hope did she have? It was Alistair's voice inside her head that got her through it. It was the only thing that helped her survive.

Now, he was there again, fighting for her. Fighting with her. He was right. She could do this. She had made it through the Harrowing. She had survived the previous evening. She wasn't about to let it beat her now.

Her breathing began to slow, matching his, breath for breath. She realized the nausea she experienced before was beginning to calm. She was going to be alright. Thanks to Alistair, she was going to make it.

When he was certain she was out of immediate danger, Alistair rolled off Solona and onto his back. It had been hours since she drank from the chalice, yet her body was still fighting tooth and nail against the taint. Even though she survived the most fundamental portion of the Joining, she still wasn't out of the woods completely. The first twenty-four hours after the ritual were pivotal. A recruit could still perish at any time during that initial day. It happened sometimes. Newly-Joined Wardens were known to die several hours after they partook of the blighted blood. That wasn't going to happen to Solona, though. Not if he could help it.

The young Warden turned his head so he could see the mage's face. She was still so pale, so weakened, but at least she was breathing normally again. It wasn't the first time Alistair had to calm Solona down since the ritual, but it was the first time he had to do it while she was actually conscious.

Right after the Joining was complete, Duncan told Alistair to remain by Sithig's side next to the fire to watch over the Avvar during the night. The young warrior, however, was disinclined to agree to that order. Somehow, he knew he had to be the one to stay with Solona that evening. He felt it in his bones, to his very core.

He requested that he be allowed to tend to the mage, mentally preparing himself to argue with his mentor, to beg if the situation warranted it. Duncan's dark eyes stared into Alistair's, as if he was gauging the younger Warden's resolve. After a few minutes, he exhaled a long breath and nodded his consent.

As soon as the commander granted his permission, Alistair scooped Solona into his arms and carried her back to her tent where he lowered her onto her bedroll and removed her boots. He didn't take his eyes from her the entire evening. He was exhausted, but he wouldn't leave her to battle the taint alone.

Twice during the night, he ended up lying next to her with his lips pressed to her ear, whispering soothing words to calm her thrashing. Her skin went from blistering hot to the touch, to sweating profusely, to ice cold, and back again more times than his frazzled mind could count. He said more prayers to the Maker that evening than he had in years. There was no plausible explanation for his feelings or actions. Somehow, for some reason, he just couldn't let her go.

She tilted her head to the side, her face contorting with pain. Alistair wanted to cry for her. The whites of her eyes had turned a bright shade of pink with dark red lines from the corners to the irises, and her brilliant lapis blue orbs had dulled to a lackluster, sallow grey with silver pupils. Dusky streaks of blackish-blue traced the veins of her once alabaster skin, which had given way to a languid shade of ecru mottled with the hue of drab slate.

Her pallid lips trembled as they parted, and Alistair became aware that she was trying to speak. He inched closer to her and brushed the damp curls from her cheeks. She was sweating again. It was a good sign.

"What is it?" he asked softly as he gazed into her haunting, blighted eyes.

She exhaled an extended breath. The lines in her face deepened, giving her the appearance of a woman years beyond her young age. Her chest shook with the slight cough she was attempting not to expel.

"W…wa," she barely managed before a tear spilled onto her dappled cheek.

Alistair grabbed the waterskin he had placed next to her bedroll and pulled the cork. With the peppermint leaf secured between her teeth and jaw, he knew it was probably safe for her to finally take a drink. He carefully lowered the rim of the skin to her lips and squeezed a few drops into her mouth.

Some of the liquid trickled down the side of her face, but most made it in. Her throat constricted with the effort of swallowing, resulting in another grimace of pain. Alistair started to rock back onto his heels, but her grey eyes begged him for more.

He bobbed his head as he repeated the process. "Not too much," he warned her. "You don't want to choke."

When she was finished with her second sip, Solona offered him a weak smile. The silver in her pupils faded a bit with that gesture and he detected a slight tinge of pink in her lips and cheeks. That was when he knew the worst was over. He would stay there with her until she was able to fend for herself again, of course, but she was finally beginning to recover.

He returned the gesture with a boyish grin. "See, I told you. You've got this."

She gave him a nod as her eyes began to flutter. She had to be exhausted. He recalled what it was like. The aftermath of his Joining hadn't been quite as difficult as Solona's, not as far as he remembered. Duncan had remained at his side while he slept off the worst of it. At least she hadn't vomited the way he did. He wasn't sure her body could have handled the strain of that.

The mint leaf.

Alistair had almost forgotten it was still in her mouth. She could choke on the thing in her sleep if he didn't remove it. He scowled.

How in the Maker's name am I supposed to remove that thing?

There was nothing for it. He had no choice but to reach in and pull the leaf out. He reached out and placed his index finger on the left corner of her lips.

So far, so good.

Slowly and carefully, he wiggled the digit to pry open the side of her mouth. She grimaced as her lips parted against his finger.

Please, please don't bite me.

The mage jerked her head when the end of his finger made contact with her teeth, but he had managed to catch enough of the leaf to grab hold of it before her mouth snapped shut again. He checked to make sure he hadn't woke her, and was relieved to find that she was still slumbering.

After flicking the leaf across the tent, the Warden arched his back with a roll of his shoulders and yawned. He was so very tired, and watching her chest rise and fall with easy, rhythmic breaths did nothing to help drive away his need for sleep. Maybe he could catch a short nap. Just a few minutes resting his eyes wouldn't hurt. Would it?

And what are you going to do if she wakes up again? What if she needs you? How in the void are you going to know if you're asleep?

The warrior sat up and rubbed his drooping eyes. They burned so badly, he could barely see anymore. He uncorked the waterskin, poured a bit of its contents onto his hands and splashed his face. After blinking several times, he realized it hadn't done a bit of good. He felt as if he were going blind already, and by his estimation it was only late morning. There was no way he would be able to make it until nightfall.

As he continued to observe Solona between the slits of his lids, he got an idea. He knew it was highly inappropriate. He also knew the mage would probably be angry that he was even considering it, but he had to do something.

In desperation for the sleep he so sorely needed, Alistair crawled to Solona's side and lay down next to her. He then rolled over and gingerly slipped his arm around her waist. He nearly fainted when she turned onto her side facing away from him and slid her hand down to his. She snaked her fingers between his lower knuckles and gave a contented sigh as she snuggled her back into him.

Please don't hurt me when you wake up, Alistair thought as he tightened his grip around her.

Before he closed his eyes, he stole a glance at Solona's face. Her color had all but returned and the dark lines were nearly completely faded. As long as it had taken her to get past the worst of the sickness, he was surprised at how quickly she was recovering. She didn't even seem sore anymore. As he contemplated the speed of her recuperation, Alistair's eyes began to grow heavy again. He couldn't fight it any longer. The feel of her against him, the warmth of her body, it was all too comfortable. Within moments, his lids finally closed and he fell into the best sleep he ever had.

I would like to say that this was a turning point in Solona and Alistair's long and complicated relationship, and I suppose, in a way, it was. But Solona is a stubborn woman, and Alistair had yet to see the full weight of her indignation. One thing she is willing to admit, however, is that he saved her life that night. If he hadn't been there, the taint would have taken her.

-G
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight