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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.

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It was late by the time the Wardens returned to camp following Jory and Daveth's pyre. Alistair was given the task of taking first watch while the others got some much needed sleep. It had been a long day, and they had at least three more ahead of them before they arrived at Ostagar.

While the rest of the Wardens bedded down for the evening, Alistair took a seat on the fallen log next to the fire pit and began pushing the coals around with the end of a long, whittled-down branch. It was quiet, too quiet actually. The darkspawn attack the night before had driven away any wildlife that normally inhabited the grove of trees surrounding them. There were no whippoorwills calling out to each other, no croaks of bullfrogs, or even the chirping of crickets. Just the crackling and popping of the fire and an uneasy reticence in the air.

After watching the dancing flames for a while, the young warrior pulled a small whetstone from his pack and his sword from its sheath and began polishing the blade. It had become a habit since he and Duncan left Denerim. The sound of the stone scraping against the metal echoed throughout the clearing and into the coppice surrounding him. Somehow the noise made him feel more at ease.

Alistair stopped when he detected rustling nearby. He shut his eyes, trying to discern if there were darkspawn in their midst, but he felt nothing. A few minutes later, Solona emerged from her tent wearing nothing but one of the oversized linen shirts Duncan had purchased for her in Wenborne and a heavy wool blanket across her shoulders.

She crept over to the fire, taking great care not to cut her feet on any sharp rocks or twigs, and sat down right beside him. After bringing the knees of her long, bare legs to her chest, she wrapped her entire body in the coverlet, but not before Alistair got a good view of her bare breasts beneath the thin top. His face grew hot and he knew he was blushing. He only hoped Solona hadn't detected the change in color.

"You're going to catch your death out here like that, you know," he told her as he continued to work on his sword.

"That's what the blanket is for," explained the mage

He shrugged. "It's your choice, but I'm not carrying you tomorrow if you get sick."

She bumped his shoulder with hers and smiled. "Yes you will."

The warrior cocked a brow. "You seem awfully sure of that. What makes you think I would risk throwing my back out to carry you?"

Her grin widened. "Given your past behavior, I'd say the odds are with me."

Alistair had to chuckle at her statement. She was probably right. No, she was definitely right. He'd do it, whether it was caused by her own inane behavior or not. The biggest trouble was, she knew it.

His hands continued to maneuver the stone across his blade as he observed the mage from the corner of his eye. She didn't seem to notice as she stared into the fire. Although she was sitting next to him, her thoughts were miles away. Her doleful expression told him those musings were less than pleasant.

He ran his tongue over his lips and cleared his throat to garner her attention. "It suddenly occurs to me that I know absolutely nothing about you, other than the fact that you're a mage and you were taken to the tower when you were five years old, that is."

She turned her face to him and tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed in slight confusion. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"What? That you're a mage or that you were taken to the tower when you were five?" he teased.

She rolled her lapis eyes. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

He screwed up his face, his eyes upward and askance, in mock concentration for a moment before wagging his head. "No…" he said, then gave a snap of his fingers. "Wait…there was that one time. But that didn't work out so well for me, so I decided to give it up."

Solona's shoulders shook with an easy laugh. "You are absolutely, barking mad. You know that, right?"

"Not quite," he joked. "I haven't reached the barking part yet. Growling occasionally, yes, but I never bark."

After a bit more chuckling, the mage leaned against Alistair and placed her head on his right shoulder. His brow creased with confusion as his lips curved into an appreciative smile. He could hardly believe it. She was actually beginning to warm up to him. He considered putting an arm around her shoulders, but decided he shouldn't press his luck.

"So, what is it that you think you want to know?" she queried.

Everything.

That was the answer he wished to give her. He wanted to tell her to start from the beginning. To fill in the gap between her earliest memory to the evening they met. He realized she would never agree to that request, but that was what he desired. Instead he chose to start with the most basic of questions and hoped she would elaborate further

He placed the side of his head against the top of hers. "Alright…Where are you from? Besides the tower, I mean."

"I was born in Kirkwall to the noble House of Amell. I barely remember any of it, though. When I was four, my mother disappeared. She just left one morning and didn't return. My father searched for her, but never found her. Right after my fifth birthday, he woke us in the middle of the night and took us from the city."

"Us?" Alistair interrupted.

"My two brothers, my sister, and I," she clarified.

"Was it because the templars were after you?" he questioned.

"Not after me," explained the mage "My oldest brother, Decimus. He was twelve. I didn't even know I had magic at the time. Anyway, my father took us to Cumberland. The evening we arrived, we stopped at an inn, but father didn't have enough coin to pay for a room. Instead, the innkeeper took every last coin my father had to let us stay in the loft of the stables out back. While we were getting ready for bed, Decimus got upset about something. I really don't remember what, but in his anger, he accidently set fire to a pile of straw. Father put it out, of course, but the innkeeper was furious.

"The next thing I knew, I was awakened by a large man in armor who picked me up and carried me outside. There were seven more templars waiting in the street. They each examined all four of us in turn then went to talk to my father. A few minutes later, he was yelling and crying and the templar who woke me picked me up. One bound Decimus's hands together with manacles, and another did the same to my brother, Maddox. They took us to the Chantry and put us in separate cells."

"What about your sister?" the warrior asked.

"They left her with my father," she replied. "Apparently, she didn't have the gift."

It was no wonder she was so bitter. First her mother abandoned her. Then she had to leave the only home she ever knew just to be torn away from the rest of her family and taken to a cell like some common thief when she was barely five years old.

The only time the former initiate had ever been involved in taking a child away from its parents was dramatic enough. The boy's name was Ryan. He was eleven, and it was his own mother who called for the templars at Bournshire. When Alistair and Knight-Commander Glavin arrived to collect Ryan, the boy cried for his mother, but she just collected her coin and turned her back on her son to return inside their home.

Alistair tried to console the child, but Glavin chastised him for it.

Don't be such a soft touch, initiate. You can't be kind to mages. If the older ones detect weakness, they'll use that to their advantage.

Alistair didn't believe it then, and his opinion certainly hadn't changed over the following two years. That was when he began doubting the Chantry's methods. Those doubts were cemented during Eva's Harrowing.

"Then what happened?" he requested of his fellow Warden.

"The next morning, my brothers were taken away. I was there until nightfall when two completely different templars took me aboard a ship. At first, the captain refused us passage, but he changed his mind in the end."

"Wanted more coin, did he?"

"No…" she hesitated. "I demanded that he take us. I told him the templars were part of the Chantry and he had to follow Chantry law."

Alistair gave her a questioning stare. "And that worked?"

"Not exactly," she told him. "He said, Darlin' I don't believe in the Chantry and I don't give one wit about its laws. What else do you have to offer an old pirate? That's when I told him that he could be arrested if he didn't listen." She gauged Alistair's expression for a long moment. "I was a very precocious child."

"Not much has changed then?" the warrior quipped with a smirk.

"I suppose not," she admitted with a shrug. "Anyway, he said, Better men than these two have tried, but by the time they send for the backup they'll need, I'll have shoved off and be halfway to Rivain."

"So how in the Maker's name did the templars get him to agree to take you?" Alistair inquired.

"I'm not sure what changed his mind, actually. He looked my escorts over for a few minutes and told the boy who was with him to ready the cabin next to the captain's quarters for me and the one next to the galley for the templars."

"That's odd," the former initiate mused. "Maybe he didn't like the looks of your guards."

"I don't know," she said. "But we sailed right to the docks of Lake Calenhad and the captain traveled with us by ferry, right to the door of the tower."

Alistair would never say it to Solona, but he had the feeling that ship's captain saw something very untoward in those men's eyes. It wasn't unheard of for some templars who transported young mages to Circles to take advantage of the children. It was even rumored that some of those men acquired the job just for that purpose. It was a sad truth, but there were very demented people in the world, even among those who claimed to be agents of the Maker.

"Do you remember the captain's name?" the warrior questioned.

The mage shook her head. "No, I never asked."

Whomever the man was, Alistair felt he should be commended for saving a little girl from such an unspeakable fate. Stories like that always had a tendency to restore his faith in humanity. It told him that, no matter how bad things became, there were always good people willing to stand up for what was right.

Solona nuzzled her cheek against Alistair's shoulder, which brought a smile back to his face. They sat in silence for a time, but for once, he didn't mind. It wasn't an awkward lull, but more a comfortable peace. In the matter of an hour or so, Solona went from an uneasy acquaintance to a friend. At least he hoped they were friends.

Alistair could see by the position of the moon that it was nearly time for Duncan to take the next watch. He still had a million questions, but one weighed on his mind more than the others. He only hoped it was one that wouldn't damage the progression of their budding friendship.

"Who's Anders?" he queried.

She jolted upright and glowered at him. "How do you know that name?"

Way to go, jackass.

"I…I heard you say it," he stuttered to explain. "When you were sleeping off the taint. I…I wasn't trying to upset you."

Solona's indignant expression deflated into one of utter despair, and her eyes began to glisten in the firelight. Whomever this Anders was, he had obviously hurt her very badly. Alistair had never seen anyone look so sorrowful, so devoid of hope. His own heart was breaking for her.

She gulped, clearly in an effort to hold back her tears. "Anders is…was…my lover. We were together for a very long time."

"It must have been difficult to leave him behind."

She waggled her head. "He left me behind. A long time ago."

"I'm sorry," Alistair apologized. "I shouldn't have pried."

The lines in her forehead deepened. "I don't want to talk about it. About him. Ever."

"Alright," he agreed. "Forget I said anything."

She nodded before turning her face away from him and swiping at her eyes with her fingertips. Alistair wanted to hug her, to hold her until she felt better and her tears stopped flowing. Instead, he continued to sit there like a statue.

"I think I'm going to go back to my tent now," she said as she stood. "Goodnight, Alistair."

"Goodnight, Solona," he told her, but she was gone before he finished saying her name.

I never said things were all bad or always bad between Alistair and Solona. No matter how much they fought over the years, there was never any doubt in my mind that they loved each other.
As for Solona's family, neither Decimus nor Maddox were as fortunate as their sisters. Both of their lives ended in tragedy years later.

As far as the ship’s captain that transported Solona to the Circle was concerned, he was a man I knew very well. A good and honorable man, at least for an old pirate. When Solona met him again later in life and thanked him, he gave her a response that was typical of the man. "Twern't nothin', darlin'. Always did have a soft spot for pretty girls."

-G
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight