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The Last of the Couslands	By : MistressofMagic Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4403 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware and EA own everything associated with the Dragon Age universe. I am making no money off of this fan fiction.

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Chapter 32
The Guardian
Bridget led her friends through the opening at the back end of the cavern, glad to have the sunlight spill onto her body and warm her chilled skin, if only slightly. The winds had not calmed and it was now impossible for her to keep her hood from blowing backwards. They exited the cavern slowly, each of them still gripping their weapons just in case another cultist (or something far worse) decided to 'swoop' them. After about ten minutes of walking away from the cavern, Bridget slowly relaxed her arms and sheathed her blade. It wasn't until she turned around, however, that she saw 'Andraste' sitting atop the side of the mountain in the distance.
"Maker…" Alistair breathed.
This dragon had to be at least twice the size of Flemeth. Even from their great distance, Bridget and the others could see her long, sharp talons and the rippled scales of her skin. Zevran took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I don't know if I'll be able to pull off another awesome backstabbing move like I did last time…" he said warily.
Leliana bit her lip.
"Do you think it would be possible to just…sneak by it? As long as we remain quiet…surely it will not wake up…"
Bridget (who in all honestly wanted to avoid a confrontation with this dragon) took Leliana's thought into consideration.
"We'll have to move slowly, if we run, our armor will make too much noise."
Zevran smirked.
"Or we could just strip down to our smalls!" he exclaimed.
Leliana hit him in the arm.
"I like Bridget's idea much better." She stated coolly.
Zevran crossed his arms.
"No body let's me have any fun anymore." He grumbled.
And so everyone (Zevran included) decided to go with Bridget's idea. Slowly the group walked down the dilapidated stone walkway, all of them glancing up at the dragon more times than they could count. Alistair rubbed and scratched his nose, frowning and slightly groaning.
"What's wrong with you?" Bridget asked, very softly.
Alistair sighed.
"I have to sneeze!" he whispered back.
Bridget's eyes widened.
"Can't you…hold it in?" she asked.
Alistair contorted his face.
"Trying to…achoo!"
Bridget and the others froze in place. Alistair bit his lip.
"Sorry!" he stated in a hushed whisper.
They all slowly turned to look up at 'Andraste'. Her tail twitched…but she remained asleep. Bridget let out a long breath that she didn't realize she held and looked at the others.
"Let's keep moving." She said softly.
They continued walking at a snails pace until finally they came across an ornate door. Once they saw it, they ran for it, as Bridget determined that they were safely away from the dragon. They all piled into the room and shut the stone door behind them quickly. Bridget rested her back up against the wall and caught her breath. Alistair stood next to her, bent over and panting, trying to regain his breath. Zevran stretched and said,
"You know that feeling you get when you get really nervous and your asshole kind of clenches? I had that feeling the entire time we were out there. And it only got worse when you sneezed!"
Alistair looked at him.
"I did my best to hold it in! Is that even possible? What are you supposed to do, think of something and that prevents you from sneezing?"
Leliana brightened.
"Actually, in Orlais, there's a saying that when you wish to hold in a sneeze, you should think about squirrels!" she exclaimed.
Alistair raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
"Squirrels? Really?"
She nodded. Alistair gaped at her.
"Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
Leliana placed her hands on her hips.
"Perhaps you should think twice before you call someone else a love bird!" she exclaimed.
Alistair rolled his eyes.
"Oh Maker you two are still going on about that? Ugh!"
Bridget chuckled but winced and held her side. She placed her fingertips to it and removed them to find a small amount of her blood coating them. She sighed. Hopefully they would find the Ashes quickly, that way she could get a proper healing from Wynne. No body noticed as she wiped the blood away, which Bridget was thankful for. No reason to get them all worried when everything would be wrapped up shortly. She cleared her throat and brought her party's attention to the task at hand. Now that everyone had quieted down, they took the opportunity to survey their area.
They stood in a stone hallway. Ornate lanterns hung on the walls, illuminating a path down the hallway and towards a room. Bridget squinted her eyes to see further into the distance. A person looked to be standing there. She beckoned the others forward and slowly they traversed through the stone hallway. Upon reaching the room at the other end, Bridget could now properly make out the figure in the distance. It was a man wearing an intricate helmet that looked as if angel's wings had been engraved on the side. He stood proudly, but in a way that was not aloof or overconfident. His face betrayed no emotion and he stood, guarding the entrance into another room. Bridget slowly approached the man, hoping that for once, this person would be able to help them.
"I bid you welcome, pilgrim." The man said in a soothing, calm voice.
Bridget nodded towards him.
"Thank you. I am here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes." She replied.
The man nodded.
"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy of her." He stated.
Bridget swallowed and felt a pain in her side once more. She really didn't have time to chit-chat. She looked up at him and said,
"I need the Ashes to cure a very noble man who is gravely ill."
The armored man nodded but replied,
"You must still prove yourself worthy, pilgrim. It is not my place to do so…but that of The Gauntlet. If you are deemed worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes."
Bridget drew her brows together, not really liking the ominous name of 'The Gauntlet'.
"Can you tell me what the Gauntlet is?" she asked softly.
The man looked at her and explained.
"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. It will test your faith, your souls. We will see how your souls fare in the outcome."
Zevran shifted his weight between his feet.
"Hmm…perhaps I should have waited outside…"
Bridget took a deep breath.
"Can you tell me anything else about this Gauntlet?" she asked.
The man, who Bridget now guessed to be the Guardian that Kolgrim mentioned, shook his head.
"You will understand what it is once you face it." He replied.
Bridget swallowed and nodded.
"Very well, I will enter the Gauntlet."
The Guardian nodded, but his gaze shifted into that of a questioning one.
"Before you go, I must ask you this. I can see that the path here for you was not easily reached. There is suffering in your past…that of a great nature."
Bridget looked at him, but remained silent. The Guardian's face remained calm as did his voice and his eyes. He then said,
"You abandoned your mother and father, left them to suffer a fate most heinous at the hands of Rendon Howe who you know showed them no mercy. Tell me…do you think you failed your parents?"
Bridget looked up at him as her eyes filled with tears. Of course she failed them! She failed her entire family that night! Because of her, her parents, the very people that granted her life and gave her love were not nothing but mangled corpses, or nothing but ash. Because of her, Oriana and Orhen, Fergus's beloved wife and son, her dear sister-in-law and nephew laid slaughtered in their own room! Did she fail her parents? The answer, in her eyes, was quite simple. Bridget felt tears stream from her eyes as she hung her head in shame. She should have defended her castle, her home to the last man. She should have stayed with her parents...for one last time. She should have died with them at the hands of Howe and his men. She should not even be alive right now. Bridget began to shake from trying to hold her composure and fight back her tears. Her lip quivered.
"Y-Yes…I failed my entire family." She replied in an anguished whisper.
Alistair placed a hand on her back.
"You are too hard on yourself." He whispered.
The crying only intensified the pain Bridget felt in her side. She tried to calm herself, but damn if it wasn't hard. The Guardian nodded.
"Thank you, that is all I wanted to know."
The Guardian then cast his gaze onto Bridget's friends.
"And what of those that follow you?" he asked slowly.
His gaze met Alistair's, who swallowed and looked back at him.
"Alistair, brave knight and Grey Warden…you often wonder if things had been different if you had been with Duncan that fateful night on the battle field. You, being so skilled, could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder if you should have died in his place, and not him…do you not?"
Alistair dropped his gaze and sighed.
I…yes. If Duncan had been saved and not I, things would be so much better now…If I just had the chance then maybe,"
Bridget slipped her hand into Alistair's and gave it a light squeeze. The rest of his sentence died in his throat as he looked at her, the ghosts of tears brimming in his eyes. He squeezed her hand back and then looked at his feet.
The Guardian turned to Zevran.
"And what of the Antivan elf?"
Zevran looked at him.
"Oh my turn now? Yay I am so excited!" he said with mock enthusiasm.
The Guardian looked at him. Bridget guessed that the fact that Zevran was being sarcastic hadn't even fazed him.
"Many have died at your hand…and yet is there any that you regret more than a woman by the name of,"
Zevran's eyes widened. All traces of smirking vanished from his face…and his eyes…his eyes were filled with disbelief.
"How do you know about that?" he asked quickly, his voice wavering slightly.
The Guardian tipped his head to the side.
"I know much as it is allowed to me…but the question still stands…do you regret,"
Zevran crossed his arms and broke his eye contact with the Guardian.
"Yes. The answer is yes. We are done now, move on and ask someone else your questions." He stated.
Bridget looked at Zevran. His eyes held pain, his face, sadness. The Guardian then turned his gaze to Leliana.
"And you…why do you claim that the Maker has spoken to you when all of us know that He has left us? He only spoke to Andraste Herself. Do you believe yourself to be Her equal?"
Leliana shook her head.
"I never said that though! I,"
The Guardian cut her off by saying,
"In Orlais you were someone…in Lothering, you feared that you would lose sight of yourself…you trembled at the thought of becoming nothing but a drab sister, and disappear. When the brothers and sisters cruelly criticized you for your drabbles, you were hurt…but you also secretly reveled in it. The attention made you feel special, even though it was negative. You enjoyed it."
Leliana's eyes widened.
"You're saying that I made it up for…attention? I did not! I know what I believe in!" she exclaimed.
The Guardian turned his head back to Bridget who had finally calmed herself of her tears…for now at least. He nodded towards her and stepped to the side.
"The way is open. Good luck to you, pilgrims…may you find what it is that you seek."
Bridget nodded slowly and moved forward, slightly grimacing at the pain in her side. She turned towards the now opened passageway and took a deep breath, ready to take on what the Gauntlet had in store for her. However, the things Bridget came across in the Gauntlet…nothing could prepare her for.
A/N: I apologize once again for some of the in game dialogue. How could I ever be able to come up with something greater than what the fabulous writers of Bioware have written? By the way, they own everything, but you knew that already! (I just realized I never posted a disclaimer, so there it is!) I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I should have the next one hopefully posted very soon!
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The Last of the Couslands