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Samahlen	By : BronxWench Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1569 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no money from this story.

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The Gauntlet

"Behold the risen Andraste!" Father Kolgrim, leader of the cultists, gestured grandly as Wraith looked up, his mind refusing to accept what he saw.
"A high dragon?" Alistair whispered. "Right, we're dead."
"It's not attacking?" Zevran sounded dubious. "Why isn't it attacking?"
"Maker's breath, don't tell me you're complaining," Alistair retorted.
Zevran snorted quietly. "Hardly, my dear ex-Templar. I just like a little warning before my life comes to an end."
"Do not fear," Kolgrim said. "Although you are not believers, The Beloved has agreed to allow you to pass into the temple of Her former self. You will be Her champions and allow Her to be fully reborn."
"You are not seriously thinking of doing what he asks, are you?" Leliana murmured, her mouth beside Wraith's ear. "To defile Andraste's sacred Ashes?"
Wraith did not bother replying to Leliana, but instead strode forward past the dragon crouched on the rocky spar above him, doing his best to appear confident and unafraid.
"Interesting technique," Alistair said softly as he caught up to Wraith. "I'll have to remember this one. When you encounter a high dragon, simply ignore it." The wry humor in his voice made Wraith look over quickly.
"It's not so much ignoring it as trying to get in that temple before the dragon changes its mind about eating us," Wraith replied just as softly. "I don't think for one minute that Kolgrim has any control over that thing."
"Oh, good. You're still sane," Alistair retorted, and the humor reached his eyes now.
Wraith snorted. "Don't count on it. Whatever happens in there, we still have to get back out."
"Right," Alistair said, drawing the word out. "I forgot about that part."
The interior of the temple was in better condition than the portions below, although time and the elements had done sufficient damage. Wraith paused in an antechamber littered with broken urns and tumbled statues of Andraste, the air frost-nipped and dry.
"What a mess!" Leliana exclaimed. "It is a gallimaufry, a hodgepodge of things all thrown together."
"From the way Kolgrim was talking, those loyal to Andraste the way we believe in her retreated here," Alistair said thoughtfully. "It probably wasn't a very orderly retreat."
"Kolgrim spoke about a Guardian here that wouldn't let him pass," Wraith said. "We should find this Guardian."
"I'm going to ask you again, and I want an answer this time." Leliana faced down Wraith, her face stern. "Are you planning on doing what Kolgrim wants? Are you going to pour that dragon's blood into the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"
Wraith looked at Leliana, taking in her determination, one hand resting on her dagger. For all her apparent flightiness, she was a bard, a trained assassin who had survived the intrigues of Orlais, no less lethal than Zevran. She was also a devout follower of Andraste, and Wraith could not fault her for her insistence on an answer.
"I have no intention of pouring anything into the ashes. In the first place, we need those ashes to cure Arl Eamon." Wraith shrugged. "I'm also not eager to anger any god, including your Maker."
"So you lied to Kolgrim?" the qunari asked.
Wraith shrugged again. "Do you think it's wrong to lie to a madman?" He regarded the qunari steadily. "You're free to depart."
Wraith turned on his heel and stalked into the temple proper. The Guardian allowed the party to pass after Wraith had agreed to perform the series of challenges required to gain access to the Urn.
The first challenge was answering riddles from a series of spirits from Andraste's past, and Leliana proved more than helpful, her devotion to the Maker's Bride providing the answers that Wraith required. The room beyond the spirits opened, and Wraith walked in, wondering what challenge came next.
There was a single figure in the room, and Wraith froze, recognizing the person before he even turned.
"Tamlen," Wraith breathed, and Alistair moved to his side.
"Yes, Samahlen. I'm Tamlen, and I'm not." The blond elf looked at Wraith with a gentle smile. "Let it go. You did all that you could."
"I left him." Wraith's voice was flat, and Alistair winced, putting an arm around Wraith's shoulders.
The blond elf smiled at Alistair. "Yes. Hold on to what you have now, and let the past be."
Wraith shook his head, trying to back away, but Alistair held on to him firmly.
"He's right, Wraith. You went back into those ruins, and all but tore them apart looking for Tamlen. No one could have done more." Alistair waved the others back, intent on Wraith. "You can accept that, and forgive yourself, and we have a chance for something good. Or you can cling to the past, and hate yourself, and what we have won't survive that."
Wraith tore his eyes away from the blond elf and looked at Alistair. "You're serious."
"As death," Alistair replied. "I love you, and I want this thing between us to mean something after the archdemon is dead. But I need to know that I'm not filling in for a dead man."
Wraith took a deep breath and reached up to touch Alistair's cheek, the stubble rough beneath his fingers. "Emma lath, you are not filling in for anyone." He turned back to the blond elf. "Dareth shiral, Tamlen. You're right, and I'm ready for this, ready to move on."
Alistair let out a shuddering breath, one Wraith had not even realized his lover was holding, and the relief and naked joy on Alistair's face was all the reassurance Wraith needed. It was not until the next door opened that Wraith realized he had passed another test.

Prompt word: Gallimaufry
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