[ It started with a drinking contest with Zevran, which was her first mistake. Neither had won the contest; he'd out-aled her and was asleep not long after, snoozing peacefully and draped over a log while Robyn... Well, it involved strange feeling in her feet and bears.
It still does, in fact. The brunette Warden sits with her legs splayed in front of her, pouting determinedly at the dead bear. It had attacked her first, of course; she admires bears for everything that they are, but had just barely managed to knock a few arrows in the right places before it took a chunk out of her middle. Dazed, tired, drunk, and still with the odd notion that her feet might fly away into the sky, she slinks down against its fur and sighs. ]
Oh! [ But then she straightens up suddenly, trying to stand. She'd promised Alistair that she'd find him, hadn't she? Something about a line of corpses (darkspawn bear corpses, hadn't it been)? Or else, he'd fallen into the river in his mail. Either way, he needed saving, and no amount of booze could keep the newest Warden from completing her mission. ]
Alistair... Where are you... [ She whispers, though she isn't whispering at all, and is in fact speaking very loudly to a chorus of crickets. ]
[ Her Warden companion is considerably less drunk (thank goodness) but her bear isn't the only dead on in the woods this evening, which is causing him to grow more and more worried - and confused - the further downriver he goes. Just how far had she wandered anyway? Perhaps he'd followed the river in the wrong direction after all?
He's about to turn out when he hears her voice calling to him and stops moving, trying to hear over the sound of the river and the night noises of the forest. ]
[ He follows the sound of her voice and catches up to her a moment later before she can wander off in the completely opposite direction once more, dashing across the clearing to catch her about the waist, tugging her back against his chest ]
Whoa. I've got you. You're fine. And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, I think. Are you hurt?
[ Maker. That was an even larger bear than the last three he'd come across. ]
Oof. [ Strong arms pull her back and at first she reaches clumsily for her dagger, but the voice comes after, drifting through her head like an old song, and she's mollified. ]
No, I mean - retire from the Wardens, I'm absolutely... [ She makes a little, discontented noise, trying valiantly to be free of his grasp so that she can prove to him (to herself) that she's capable of standing and being the Warden that Gotham Ferelden needs right now. ]
Not hurt. [ That wasn't what she'd been about to say, but it's important to let him know. She thinks suddenly of a river and some bridge, words stuck to her memory, and turns to frown at him. ]
But you aren't wet! I thought... Oh, I'm very out of sorts at the moment.
[ Certain now that she's not about to swoon in his arms or something, he turns her carefully in his grip, still refusing to let go of her - she had lost her feet apparently, after all. ]
You're absolutely not retiring from the Wardens. [ He informs her of this firmly and fondly, his hands on her hips as he steadies her, giving her a faint smile as he takes her in, reassuring himself that she's alright. ] That is not allowed. And if that was an option for every Warden who overindulged every now and then, there'd be none of us left.
What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were with Zevran?
But none of them were such messes about it. [ And within her first year, too. Embarrassment rises as color to her cheeks and she squirms a bit in his grasp; it's nice to feel grounded, as she literally does with him holding her, but she admires him so much so that this experience is fairly humiliating. ]
I didn't mean - Well, I was, yes, and he's... part of why this... happened.
[ She gestures mildly to herself. To the bear. ]
I'm not sure what, um, he had us drink, but I'm certain I'm never having it again.
[ Maker have mercy. She blinks up at him, innocent as you like. There's a spot of (bear) blood on her nose. ]
He tried to kiss the dog before he dozed off. Think he managed it, actually.
You only say that because you haven't seen a hall full of Wardens get drunk off their asses yet.
[ He points this out with a wry smile as he gazes down at her, fond and bemused. At her motion, he takes in the bear and her own state of dishabille and cocks an eyebrow upwards. ]
Drinking with Antivans never ends well, for future reference. And considering you felled a bear by yourself with a bow while in this state, I think you've acquitted yourself admirably.
[ He lifts a hand to cup against her cheek, his thumb swiping at the spot on her nose to wipe it away. ] Here, you have a... I think a little mess is to be anticipated, considering.
Yet! [ Perhaps she's momentarily forgotten that they're all dead (how could she, though), or it's that she anticipates meeting dozens of others before they're both dead and drinking heavily with them. She doesn't make a habit of it, certainly, but the approach of the Landsmeet has driven her to making bets with Zeveran, and... here they are. ]
I would say it was about as difficult as taking out darkspawn unaddled.
[ Yes, that sounds about right. She nods firmly. He dabs at her nose, taking her face in his hand, and she raises her own to close over his. ]
I think it's more than a little mess. [ So kind, though, Alistair. Robyn smiles brightly, glad to have one person on her side, at least, if she exasperates half their companions regularly (or maybe it's just Morrigan). ]
My hero. I could never have lived with any dirt on my nose.
[ There's more than one Hall. She'll get to see it sooner or later.
He chuckles at her words, a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck when she smiles up at him like that, her hand against his a warmth he is all too aware of. ]
I'm sure you would have made do. You always seem to. Admirably, even. If either of us is going to show up looking like a bumbling idiot somewhere, I assure you, it won't be you.
Now. let's see about getting you back to camp and finding your feet, yes? Before any more bears find us first, hmm? [ He hums out, and there's only the briefest hint of mischief flickering in his gaze before he reaches down and scoops her up in his arms, cradling her carefully against his chest as he settles her there in an easy grip. ]
You are far too unkind to yourself. [ Always one to speak her mind. Robyn briefly tightens her grip around his hand, squeezing gently, then withdrawing. ] I would never have made it here without your help... what with the bears, and the... everything.
[ And the feet, as he's said. She seems as if she's going to continue speaking in his defense until he scoops her up in one, fluid motion. Robyn actually gasps, disoriented, aware primarily that the earth has moved under her feet. Secondly, that he's taken her literally into his arms. ]
Oh - I can walk, honestly! I made it here, didn't I?
[ Mind, she isn't particularly far from camp; the dark woods had made it impossibly easy to wander in unsteady circles.
Once, Fergus had gotten so drunk (around her age, she thinks, hazily) that she had found him the next morning cozied up with a potted plant. She'd laughed herself silly and brought their mother to see before he woke, muttering curses, but smiling in admittance of his own absurdity.
What would he think of her now, how much she'd changed?
Her fingers curl around the corner of his plating. ]
You won't be able to do much about bears if you've got to manage me, you know.
Oh, I don't know. You've still got a bow. And failing that, you can just snarl at them menacingly. I've seen you do it. It's terrifying.
[ He keeps his tone light as he carries her back through the woods, because he suspects that this might still be quicker. Or maybe he just likes the feeling of having her in his arms, but he's not about to bring that up. ]
Just tuck in and get comfortable for a few minutes and I'll have you and your feet back in camp in no time, I vow it.
[ Did someone say "snarl at them menacingly?" Robyn bares her teeth, uttering a growl that she may normally be able to pull off, but despite her valiant effort, only sounds like a lion cub at the moment. ]
Tuck in? If you aren't careful, I'll just nod off up here.
[ She hasn't been carried around since she was a girl; despite the hazy state of her head, she recognizes the moment between them and her heart flutters a bit.
Like a little girl's. Hang it all. I've been a complete child. ]
And what if we cannot find my feet, Alistair? How will we go on?
I'm sure we'll think of something. You're very resourceful, after all. And if you and I can't find them, I'm sure we can rely on the mabari. He finds everything.
[ He chuckles as he glances down at her, charmed by the little snarl she lets loose and oh no, that really is too adorable by half, now what's he supposed to do? Other than nearly stumble over his own two feet, which he narrowly misses and hey campfire, thank the Maker.
The camp is all quiet and still, most of their companions are sound asleep, although he can see Sten prowling around along the outskirts, as restless and intimidating as ever. He carries Robyn instead to her tent, moving silently before carefully setting her down on her feet once more, hands lingering until he was certain she had her balance. ]
That he does. [ She thinks immediately of before this had all started, the night before Howe betrayed her family. The hound had come to her with someone's underthings in its maw and she had just laughed.
Well, he's enthusiastic, at least.
The campfire streaks through her vision in a warm flash and then they're in her tent. Robyn sways a bit as she's set down, not especially thrilled to be free of his assuaging grip, but she manages to make sense of the world in a way that doesn't involve her falling over again. ]
Thank you for all this. [ But, as people often are when intoxicated, she's struck by something she feels intensely compelled to say, something that bursts through the dam of her lips like floodwater. ] - I really will miss your company if you - when you take the throne.
[ The Landsmeet has been more than a strong focus in her mind, hence the drinking, hence the little, embarrassed outburst. She glances away, clearing her throat, face reddening from the ale, or... other things. ]
[ He winces slightly at that and bends his head to press his brow against hers, huffing out a quiet sigh as his hands fall to her hips, steady there, reluctant to relinquish his hold on her just yet. ]
Can we... not talk about that right now?
[ He was dreading it. Dreading it worse than facing the looming threat of the Archdemon. Archdemons he could fight. He was good at fighting. Having to take the crown...
That was more terrifying to him than a dozen Blights, back to back. Especially the thought of doing it alone. ]
[ She's still as he leans toward her, closing her eyes, brows furrowed. ]
Of course. [ And there's the regret, bubbling up like acid into her throat. It's all so dammed complicated already; she needn't go around reminding him of how much more so it will be in a few days' time. ] I didn't mean- [ She makes a little dissatisfied noise. ] ... Yes. Maker, you've been so attentive, and here I am, being so very trying all night through.
You are never trying, Robyn. [ The words are serious as his eyes open again, and there's fondness warm in them as he lifts one hand to cup against her cheek, slides it back to curl at the nape of her neck. ] Maker help me, you could never be that. I just...
Part of me wishes we could just stop time right here. Not have to move forward. Too many things are changing, and so quickly I can't keep up. Changes I don't think I'm ready for.
[ Especially if it meant taking him away from her side. Not when it felt so right that he remain here with her. Like he belonged. ]
[ The drunkenness ebbs as the night wears on; it still has a hold on her, hence the thoughts spoken that she might not have voiced otherwise. Still, she's able to look at him and speak with more careful consideration. Despite what he says, the last thing she wants to do is to add more to his already-full, metaphorical plate, intentionally or otherwise. ]
I know. I feel the same. [ She misses her home and her family, hadn't even considered that she might end up a Grey Warden, but since then... this is the only home she has. Besides that, it's been wonderful, darkspawn and betrayal aside. She's an eternal optimist; their misadventures have been as much about traveling Ferelden and helping its people as its been nightmares and monsters. ] I can't say I'm ready for any of it, either. I've never been much of a politician, and a lot of it - [ She sighs, glancing down to think, dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. ] So much has been put upon us to decide.
[ And more will, if she has to shoulder Warden duties alone, following the fight with the Archdemon (if she even survives). So will he, if he has to rule the kingdom alone. It occurs to her with a little shock that it might be sensible for him to marry Anora, to unite the experienced ruler and the claim to the throne in wedlock.
Despite herself, despite all of her best wishes for the queen, her heart tightens at the thought. ]
[ he lifts a hand, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear from where it had fallen loose, his eyes warm and searching her face for a moment. ]
Don't think about it. It's still far away, or so I keep telling myself. Either way, it's not here now. But we are. We don't need to make any world-changing decisions tonight. Unless you really want to, of course?
Not at all. And I'm not qualified at the moment, either.
[ As she's asserted. She smiles brightly up at him, relieved that he doesn't want to talk about it; despite the fact that she'd brought it up, it had been a sort of unintentional reaction and, more than anything, she'd like to forget it. At least for now. They have this moment and a while yet before any real decision needs to be made.
She captures his stray hand, fingers curling around his. ]
We ought to, um - [ Robyn worries briefly at her lip, then sighs in a grudging sort of way. ] You should get some sleep, considering how much work you've been doing trying to keep me on my feet.
Noted; I shall have to make things more difficult for you the next time I drink with an Antivan. [ She smiles brightly, still holding his hand, then ducks under the flap as he holds it so nobly open for her.
It isn't much, as it's a tent, but a candle's shadow dances along the walls and across their faces once they stand within. Robyn looks up at Alistair, lifts onto her tip-toes and pecks him softly on the cheek. ]
I don't need much settling. [ Really, she just has to remove the weapons from her person and the outer armor; she's fine to sleep in her tunic and leggings. She glances toward the exit behind him, but she's unwilling to let go of his fingers in hers. ]
[ There's teasing in his tone, husky with humor, but also an underlying sense of gentleness. Instead of releasing her entirely, his hands move to start helping remove her weapons, surprisingly adept at it, despite the fumbling awkwardness he was so often prone to. ]
[ Unabashedly, she smiles at him, assisting in his... assisting, slipping the crossbow from her back, the belt with its sheathed dagger, the pouches with poultices and herbs and poisons.
When you have no home, you carry everything. ]
Do you mind? [ The leather armor isn't so cumbersome, really, but the buckles are all over the place... namely, at her upper back, and it's a little more difficult than usual with the night she's somehow made it through. ]
[ He motions to her with a spin of his finger and then waits until she does so to start working on the buckles of her armor from behind. When it is loose, he lets it slide down and away, leaving her in the simple tunic she wears underneath the leathers. it's still considerably less than normal, but he takes advantage of the moment to twine his arms around her, dragging her back against his own chest. The skin of her shoulder tempts him and he bends his head to press his lips to it, a whisper-light caress. ]
[ She sighs in relief as the leather plating slips away, rolling her shoulders which are, as usual, sore under the literal weight of the day. Not much later, she inhales sharply in pleasant surprise as he tugs her back, brushes a kiss over her skin. It isn't that it's a surprise, exactly, but her heart beats with more vigor nonetheless, her fingers curling around his hands, her neck arcing to allow him easier access to... well, the entire area. ]
Mm - I may have to lose my feet more often.
[ NOT that she'd done it on purpose, or... done it at all. But she can't deny to either of them how much she enjoys being in his presence, particularly when they have these rare moments alone together. ]
Maybe you could not lose them so far away next time, hmm?
[ He chuckles as he wraps his arms about her, turning his head so he can kiss his way up her throat, pausing to linger at the little dip beneath her ear as he nuzzles against her affectionately. ]
It wasn't as if I did it on purpose! [ She laughs, high and bright, beaming as he pecks affectionately at her neck. Her fingers curl further around his hands, breathing deeply, heart like that of a younger girl's in a flushed infatuation. ]
Maybe next time you might warn me sooner about having a drink with an Antivan! [ Honestly, Alistair, how was she supposed to know that that was a bad idea??
To her credit, Zevran could talk most anyone into anything. ]
Oh, yes. I'm sure that will work wonderfully. [ he rolls his eyes and then gives her throat a playful nip before abruptly spinning her around to face him again, catching her about the waist to steady her, just in case. ] Don't think I've missed the fact that he can coerce you into just about any bit of mischief with him.
[ She's certainly steady enough by now to stand without swaying (or falling), but she appreciates it anyway, arms moving to twine around his neck. ]
Not any bit! Really, you think so little of my willpower. [ After which she wrinkles her nose in displeasure, despite the bright smile that's still in place. ] I did talk him out of killing us, remember?
[ The healer bows, takes her leave. The queen sits very still before hurrying to her feet and following suit, slipping out into the hall and pressing her back to the closed door.
Life seems impossible now. What had begun for her as indescribable tragedy and hardship, the slaughter of her family, the massacre at Ostagar, the struggle of the Fifth Blight... had somehow become this. For lack of a more poignant comparison, it was like starting with some awful-looking insect that transformed by the end into something beautiful. She still has nightmares about it all, but none of them feature darkspawn in a way that is beyond the norm for any Ferelden inhabitant. None of them have the Archdemon, alive or dead, whispering in her slumbering mind. No, they're all normal, because the Warden rulers of the country had found and taken a cure for the taint and lived.
When Robyn Cousland (Theirin) returned to the castle under cover of night to bring the news to her husband, no one else knew. None of the Wardens were made aware of the cure until after the couple had taken it for themselves, barely lived through the experience of a week of terrible sickness. Still, by the grace of the Maker, they'd seen it through and both recovered (in time). And then, the queen and Warden-Commander of Ferelden had taken the information to Weisshaupt for the others. It had been too late for some, for the Grey Wardens who had journeyed into the Deep Roads for their Calling. Still, the majority would and could be saved; she presented the ritual and endured the criticism of her timing in not having brought it first to them.
She didn't deny that it would have been the right thing to do, but for once, she'd been selfish and had gone to Denerim first.
That was some time ago. With the cure in their hands, the Wardens were no longer bound to live and die by their cursed blood. Meanwhile, Ferelden had a greater chance than ever of seeing the Theirin line continue, which had been the very reason for the healer's visit in the first place. It's why Robyn is moving quickly through the halls in search of Alistair, eyes bright and not quite able to keep the youthful smile from her face. ]
Your Majesty, may I speak privately with you? [ Finally. She'd found him just finishing a meeting with, of all people, Bann Teagan. He'll need to know before long, too, but for now, she inclines her head politely and lays a hand on Alistair's arm. ]
[ I guess that means this ends soon. One way or another.
Did you not wonder why Flemeth saved your life? Why she aided you? This is why.
The door closes with a snap and she presses her back to it, heart pounding like the drums of the battle to come in her ears. Alistair had always said that there was a reason for Flemeth to send her daughter along on their journey. Robyn had always brushed it delicately aside for reasons that she hadn't been completely able to understand. The Witch of the Wilds had saved their lives, true, but if there was a reason for her to place Morrigan in their midst-... well. She could never have guessed that it might have been this, not in a hundred years.
I have been very, very naive.
For a moment, as she lets her eyes close and shuts them tight, she can imagine that she isn't in Redcliffe at all, but back in Highever, before any and everything happened. Tears sting at her eyes with the sense of how simple it all was, how good, how easy. Nothing had been that way since, but they'd made the best of it, hadn't they? Despite the odds stacked to the sky against them, their strange band had managed to do what no one thought possible. Each in their party had their own weights to bear, but they'd proven noble allies and steadfast friends, in the end. It's true that the feeling of betrayal stirs within her, biting hot at her insides at the thought of the conversation she'd just had with Morrigan... but, if it's true? If it's true (and she does believe it, forgiving to a fault), then this way be their way to actually outlive the Fifth Blight. More importantly, it might be a way to keep Alistair from noble, self-sacrificial action.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes her hands are shaking and she clenches them into fists that whiten her skin. Riordan has said he'll take that last blow; he's a seasoned warrior, we've nothing to fear. And yet, the tiniest voice inside her doesn't second this hope, retains that until the move is made, they can't know for certain what will happen. Who will live or die.
Swallowing hard, Robyn pushes from the door and moves down the hall, still dressed in the armor of the day, feeling its weight with every step. She'd told Morrigan that she would speak with Alistair, but every step solidifies how she feels about the entire thing, just drives home all her reservations that had shouted, demanding to be heard, when she'd first been told what this ritual would entail. Even so, and no matter what the apostate had said, this isn't her own decision.
Her skin is crawling when she enters the room. It's his room, technically, as they'd been given their own, but neither had ever had any intention of being alone tonight. On the last night. So, she closes another door, trying not to let the enormity of Morrigan's words shine through like a complete beacon. ]
Oh, are these your chambers? [ She questions lightly, with every effort to appear perfectly unconcerned, though they'd both been informed of more cheery news about the fates of the Wardens (and more). ] Well, my mistake. I really thought I had the right door...
[ somewhere along the way, his legs started falling asleep. it makes it hard to lean against the four-poster bed--pins and needles tingle in his calves as he smiles at robyn. it's a terrible smile. completely fake and as easy to see through as hers is. but he puts it on, nonetheless, a familiar mask to hide his unease. ]
Oh, dear. You can't be seen walking out of here, Warden Cousland. It's just not proper. Whatever shall we do? [ his voice cracks a little on the last word and it's everything he can do not to let the facade drop.
after riordan told them the truth, he'd come into his room and paused. stared right at the floor and couldn't even take his armor off like he probably should have. instead, he stood stock still until robyn came in, his mind racing a mile a minute.
alistair wants to have faith in riordan. he really, truly does. but he can't help but think of ostagar and the complete slaughter that happened there. they lost so many wardens, and that wasn't even the whole horde. their senior says he'll take the final blow, make the sacrifice so they can live, but there's no guarantee his plan will work. if anything, it's more likely it won't. and that--well. that terrifies alistair. makes him cold right down to his core.
he doesn't want to die. but more than that, he doesn't want to face a life without robyn. she's been the brightest spot in his life for a while now and he--maker, it sound pathetic, but he's not sure what he'd do without her. he's really not.
the smile on his face falters as he swallows hard. but she's playing at ease, at light-heartedness, so he does his best to go along with it. ]
I don't suppose you'd like to help me into something more comfortable?
[ They are two very young people with a lot more on their shoulders than just about anyone else in Thedas, and certainly in Ferelden. The circumstances that have brought them to this moment, and together, are a tangled that's become impossible to follow and harder to believe. How is it that the bastard son of the king and the daughter of a teryn had come to be in this room, lying through their smiles, about to enter into the likely last fight of their lives?
And that's all besides what's most pressing at her mind, which won't stay down for long, though which she wishes she could set aside and never tell him. Robyn knows that she can't make that decision, though, not when he has every right to (possibly) save his own life. If he wants to go through with the ritual, she can't begrudge him for it, much as the very idea might tug at her heart. ]
Suppose away. [ She replies lightly, stepping in. They're both armed and armored, but with the information she's just received, she barely notices. It drags her down as if she's weary heavy mail and she's more than obviously distracted, unable to muster the usual amount of bright optimism, though she wants nothing more than to see him smile. ... And not the one he's chosen, which is strained and deeply upset.
Robyn thumbs at his jaw, briefly, then moves to the clasps of his breastplate. The deft hands of a rogue slip the buckles off and away without too much trouble, working at each piece in turn. Gingerly, she takes the gloves, nudges him backward to sit on the bed and kneels to remove his boots. He can do much of it himself, but busying herself with a simple task, and one that helps him in even the smallest capacity, distracts from the... everything else.
Andraste, give me strength. Maker, keep him safe. ]
More comfortable now that you've shed all the weight of that metal? [ She smiles thinly, rising. They're both here, physically, but seemingly somewhere else in mind. ] It's a wonder you can keep that on your back all day long.
[ It isn't the Fade. She knows right away that this is something else entirely, and stranger still, that fact doesn't bother her. In sleep, Robyn awakens in a hazy sort of place, like she'd been dead-drunk the night before. Looking around, she realizes that she can't tell if the fog is in her head or in the landscape, sparse and unclear as it is. She spends some amount of time just standing still, dressed in her Grey Warden armor, not questioning the nature of the moment. In dreams, you don't think things are out of the ordinary, do you? ... But, in dreams, you walk the Fade, and she doesn't feel the same way in this place that she has throughout the rest of her life.
Eventually, it dawns on her that this is different. Concerning. The brunette swallows, finally taking stock of her surroundings, but there isn't much to see or to register. Truthfully, she isn't aware of much beyond her name and has only bits of her identity held solid in her mind. The rest of it drifts lazily around her, like how the air seems to hang in this place. No matter how much she walks, nothing changes, and eventually she has to accept that she's stuck in this... whatever it is. ]
Hello? [ Robyn calls, and in another twist, her voice sounds completely normal. It doesn't echo or sound otherwise as she'd expected it. Maybe this is the Fade. It isn't as if she's any expert, after, and her dreams since the Joining have been different enough that yet another change shouldn't be a surprise.
A little more resigned, but without any more answers, she settles down and sits cross-legged on the ground, searching her person for any telling objects or signs. There isn't anything there, though, not even a weapon (which will make things interesting if a demon or unfriendly spirit arrives)... ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
>.>
do all ferelden men were that necklace what is the deal
It still does, in fact. The brunette Warden sits with her legs splayed in front of her, pouting determinedly at the dead bear. It had attacked her first, of course; she admires bears for everything that they are, but had just barely managed to knock a few arrows in the right places before it took a chunk out of her middle. Dazed, tired, drunk, and still with the odd notion that her feet might fly away into the sky, she slinks down against its fur and sighs. ]
Oh! [ But then she straightens up suddenly, trying to stand. She'd promised Alistair that she'd find him, hadn't she? Something about a line of corpses (darkspawn bear corpses, hadn't it been)? Or else, he'd fallen into the river in his mail. Either way, he needed saving, and no amount of booze could keep the newest Warden from completing her mission. ]
Alistair... Where are you... [ She whispers, though she isn't whispering at all, and is in fact speaking very loudly to a chorus of crickets. ]
it's a manly necklace shh
He's about to turn out when he hears her voice calling to him and stops moving, trying to hear over the sound of the river and the night noises of the forest. ]
Robyn?
squint
Yes? [ Hm. He sounds close, relatively. She glances around, making little of what she sees in the darkness, then begins down the path again.
Maker, but she's had too much to drink. ]
I'm sorry, I think... after this, I ought to retire...
[ For shame, for shame of being a thoroughly difficult drunk! ]
>.>
Whoa. I've got you. You're fine. And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, I think. Are you hurt?
[ Maker. That was an even larger bear than the last three he'd come across. ]
no subject
No, I mean - retire from the Wardens, I'm absolutely... [ She makes a little, discontented noise, trying valiantly to be free of his grasp so that she can prove to him (to herself) that she's capable of standing and being the Warden that
GothamFerelden needs right now. ]Not hurt. [ That wasn't what she'd been about to say, but it's important to let him know. She thinks suddenly of a river and some bridge, words stuck to her memory, and turns to frown at him. ]
But you aren't wet! I thought... Oh, I'm very out of sorts at the moment.
no subject
You're absolutely not retiring from the Wardens. [ He informs her of this firmly and fondly, his hands on her hips as he steadies her, giving her a faint smile as he takes her in, reassuring himself that she's alright. ] That is not allowed. And if that was an option for every Warden who overindulged every now and then, there'd be none of us left.
What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were with Zevran?
no subject
I didn't mean - Well, I was, yes, and he's... part of why this... happened.
[ She gestures mildly to herself. To the bear. ]
I'm not sure what, um, he had us drink, but I'm certain I'm never having it again.
[ Maker have mercy. She blinks up at him, innocent as you like. There's a spot of (bear) blood on her nose. ]
He tried to kiss the dog before he dozed off. Think he managed it, actually.
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[ He points this out with a wry smile as he gazes down at her, fond and bemused. At her motion, he takes in the bear and her own state of dishabille and cocks an eyebrow upwards. ]
Drinking with Antivans never ends well, for future reference. And considering you felled a bear by yourself with a bow while in this state, I think you've acquitted yourself admirably.
[ He lifts a hand to cup against her cheek, his thumb swiping at the spot on her nose to wipe it away. ] Here, you have a... I think a little mess is to be anticipated, considering.
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I would say it was about as difficult as taking out darkspawn unaddled.
[ Yes, that sounds about right. She nods firmly. He dabs at her nose, taking her face in his hand, and she raises her own to close over his. ]
I think it's more than a little mess. [ So kind, though, Alistair. Robyn smiles brightly, glad to have one person on her side, at least, if she exasperates half their companions regularly (or maybe it's just Morrigan). ]
My hero. I could never have lived with any dirt on my nose.
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He chuckles at her words, a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck when she smiles up at him like that, her hand against his a warmth he is all too aware of. ]
I'm sure you would have made do. You always seem to. Admirably, even. If either of us is going to show up looking like a bumbling idiot somewhere, I assure you, it won't be you.
Now. let's see about getting you back to camp and finding your feet, yes? Before any more bears find us first, hmm? [ He hums out, and there's only the briefest hint of mischief flickering in his gaze before he reaches down and scoops her up in his arms, cradling her carefully against his chest as he settles her there in an easy grip. ]
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[ And the feet, as he's said. She seems as if she's going to continue speaking in his defense until he scoops her up in one, fluid motion. Robyn actually gasps, disoriented, aware primarily that the earth has moved under her feet. Secondly, that he's taken her literally into his arms. ]
Oh - I can walk, honestly! I made it here, didn't I?
[ Mind, she isn't particularly far from camp; the dark woods had made it impossibly easy to wander in unsteady circles.
Once, Fergus had gotten so drunk (around her age, she thinks, hazily) that she had found him the next morning cozied up with a potted plant. She'd laughed herself silly and brought their mother to see before he woke, muttering curses, but smiling in admittance of his own absurdity.
What would he think of her now, how much she'd changed?
Her fingers curl around the corner of his plating. ]
You won't be able to do much about bears if you've got to manage me, you know.
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[ He keeps his tone light as he carries her back through the woods, because he suspects that this might still be quicker. Or maybe he just likes the feeling of having her in his arms, but he's not about to bring that up. ]
Just tuck in and get comfortable for a few minutes and I'll have you and your feet back in camp in no time, I vow it.
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Tuck in? If you aren't careful, I'll just nod off up here.
[ She hasn't been carried around since she was a girl; despite the hazy state of her head, she recognizes the moment between them and her heart flutters a bit.
Like a little girl's. Hang it all. I've been a complete child. ]
And what if we cannot find my feet, Alistair? How will we go on?
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[ He chuckles as he glances down at her, charmed by the little snarl she lets loose and oh no, that really is too adorable by half, now what's he supposed to do? Other than nearly stumble over his own two feet, which he narrowly misses and hey campfire, thank the Maker.
The camp is all quiet and still, most of their companions are sound asleep, although he can see Sten prowling around along the outskirts, as restless and intimidating as ever. He carries Robyn instead to her tent, moving silently before carefully setting her down on her feet once more, hands lingering until he was certain she had her balance. ]
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Well, he's enthusiastic, at least.
The campfire streaks through her vision in a warm flash and then they're in her tent. Robyn sways a bit as she's set down, not especially thrilled to be free of his assuaging grip, but she manages to make sense of the world in a way that doesn't involve her falling over again. ]
Thank you for all this. [ But, as people often are when intoxicated, she's struck by something she feels intensely compelled to say, something that bursts through the dam of her lips like floodwater. ] - I really will miss your company if you - when you take the throne.
[ The Landsmeet has been more than a strong focus in her mind, hence the drinking, hence the little, embarrassed outburst. She glances away, clearing her throat, face reddening from the ale, or... other things. ]
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Can we... not talk about that right now?
[ He was dreading it. Dreading it worse than facing the looming threat of the Archdemon. Archdemons he could fight. He was good at fighting. Having to take the crown...
That was more terrifying to him than a dozen Blights, back to back. Especially the thought of doing it alone. ]
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Of course. [ And there's the regret, bubbling up like acid into her throat. It's all so dammed complicated already; she needn't go around reminding him of how much more so it will be in a few days' time. ] I didn't mean- [ She makes a little dissatisfied noise. ] ... Yes. Maker, you've been so attentive, and here I am, being so very trying all night through.
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Part of me wishes we could just stop time right here. Not have to move forward. Too many things are changing, and so quickly I can't keep up. Changes I don't think I'm ready for.
[ Especially if it meant taking him away from her side. Not when it felt so right that he remain here with her. Like he belonged. ]
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I know. I feel the same. [ She misses her home and her family, hadn't even considered that she might end up a Grey Warden, but since then... this is the only home she has. Besides that, it's been wonderful, darkspawn and betrayal aside. She's an eternal optimist; their misadventures have been as much about traveling Ferelden and helping its people as its been nightmares and monsters. ] I can't say I'm ready for any of it, either. I've never been much of a politician, and a lot of it - [ She sighs, glancing down to think, dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. ] So much has been put upon us to decide.
[ And more will, if she has to shoulder Warden duties alone, following the fight with the Archdemon (if she even survives). So will he, if he has to rule the kingdom alone. It occurs to her with a little shock that it might be sensible for him to marry Anora, to unite the experienced ruler and the claim to the throne in wedlock.
Despite herself, despite all of her best wishes for the queen, her heart tightens at the thought. ]
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Don't think about it. It's still far away, or so I keep telling myself. Either way, it's not here now. But we are. We don't need to make any world-changing decisions tonight. Unless you really want to, of course?
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[ As she's asserted. She smiles brightly up at him, relieved that he doesn't want to talk about it; despite the fact that she'd brought it up, it had been a sort of unintentional reaction and, more than anything, she'd like to forget it. At least for now. They have this moment and a while yet before any real decision needs to be made.
She captures his stray hand, fingers curling around his. ]
We ought to, um - [ Robyn worries briefly at her lip, then sighs in a grudging sort of way. ] You should get some sleep, considering how much work you've been doing trying to keep me on my feet.
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It wasn't really work. Come on. Let's get you settled first, yeah?
[ Because he's not about to leave her on her own again when she might still be tipsy. Or prone to wandering out among the bears. ]
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It isn't much, as it's a tent, but a candle's shadow dances along the walls and across their faces once they stand within. Robyn looks up at Alistair, lifts onto her tip-toes and pecks him softly on the cheek. ]
I don't need much settling. [ Really, she just has to remove the weapons from her person and the outer armor; she's fine to sleep in her tunic and leggings. She glances toward the exit behind him, but she's unwilling to let go of his fingers in hers. ]
Then - I'll see you in the morning?
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[ There's teasing in his tone, husky with humor, but also an underlying sense of gentleness. Instead of releasing her entirely, his hands move to start helping remove her weapons, surprisingly adept at it, despite the fumbling awkwardness he was so often prone to. ]
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[ Unabashedly, she smiles at him, assisting in his... assisting, slipping the crossbow from her back, the belt with its sheathed dagger, the pouches with poultices and herbs and poisons.
When you have no home, you carry everything. ]
Do you mind? [ The leather armor isn't so cumbersome, really, but the buckles are all over the place... namely, at her upper back, and it's a little more difficult than usual with the night she's somehow made it through. ]
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[ He motions to her with a spin of his finger and then waits until she does so to start working on the buckles of her armor from behind. When it is loose, he lets it slide down and away, leaving her in the simple tunic she wears underneath the leathers. it's still considerably less than normal, but he takes advantage of the moment to twine his arms around her, dragging her back against his own chest. The skin of her shoulder tempts him and he bends his head to press his lips to it, a whisper-light caress. ]
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Mm - I may have to lose my feet more often.
[ NOT that she'd done it on purpose, or... done it at all. But she can't deny to either of them how much she enjoys being in his presence, particularly when they have these rare moments alone together. ]
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[ He chuckles as he wraps his arms about her, turning his head so he can kiss his way up her throat, pausing to linger at the little dip beneath her ear as he nuzzles against her affectionately. ]
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Maybe next time you might warn me sooner about having a drink with an Antivan! [ Honestly, Alistair, how was she supposed to know that that was a bad idea??
To her credit, Zevran could talk most anyone into anything. ]
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Not any bit! Really, you think so little of my willpower. [ After which she wrinkles her nose in displeasure, despite the bright smile that's still in place. ] I did talk him out of killing us, remember?
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[ His voice is all fond amusement however as he lifts a hand to tap a single finger chidingly at the tip of her nose. ]
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Is avoiding your own assassination mischief? You need to look over your priorities, Alistair.
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I meant more after that. Although I'm quite sure Zevran might refer to it as such, considering his sense of humor.
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Robyn releases his finger, planting her hands firmly on her hips. ]
Well, if mischief is the worst that befalls us, I'll be embarrassed for the darkspawn.
[ Really, though; they'd survived more than most people for being the ragtag group that they are. ]
also leaves this here for whenever while writing the other tag.
!!!
Life seems impossible now. What had begun for her as indescribable tragedy and hardship, the slaughter of her family, the massacre at Ostagar, the struggle of the Fifth Blight... had somehow become this. For lack of a more poignant comparison, it was like starting with some awful-looking insect that transformed by the end into something beautiful. She still has nightmares about it all, but none of them feature darkspawn in a way that is beyond the norm for any Ferelden inhabitant. None of them have the Archdemon, alive or dead, whispering in her slumbering mind. No, they're all normal, because the Warden rulers of the country had found and taken a cure for the taint and lived.
When Robyn Cousland (Theirin) returned to the castle under cover of night to bring the news to her husband, no one else knew. None of the Wardens were made aware of the cure until after the couple had taken it for themselves, barely lived through the experience of a week of terrible sickness. Still, by the grace of the Maker, they'd seen it through and both recovered (in time). And then, the queen and Warden-Commander of Ferelden had taken the information to Weisshaupt for the others. It had been too late for some, for the Grey Wardens who had journeyed into the Deep Roads for their Calling. Still, the majority would and could be saved; she presented the ritual and endured the criticism of her timing in not having brought it first to them.
She didn't deny that it would have been the right thing to do, but for once, she'd been selfish and had gone to Denerim first.
That was some time ago. With the cure in their hands, the Wardens were no longer bound to live and die by their cursed blood. Meanwhile, Ferelden had a greater chance than ever of seeing the Theirin line continue, which had been the very reason for the healer's visit in the first place. It's why Robyn is moving quickly through the halls in search of Alistair, eyes bright and not quite able to keep the youthful smile from her face. ]
Your Majesty, may I speak privately with you? [ Finally. She'd found him just finishing a meeting with, of all people, Bann Teagan. He'll need to know before long, too, but for now, she inclines her head politely and lays a hand on Alistair's arm. ]
If you have no other business...
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we’re in love during the war.
does it make each moment more precious,
or does it make each moment more difficult?
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Did you not wonder why Flemeth saved your life? Why she aided you? This is why.
The door closes with a snap and she presses her back to it, heart pounding like the drums of the battle to come in her ears. Alistair had always said that there was a reason for Flemeth to send her daughter along on their journey. Robyn had always brushed it delicately aside for reasons that she hadn't been completely able to understand. The Witch of the Wilds had saved their lives, true, but if there was a reason for her to place Morrigan in their midst-... well. She could never have guessed that it might have been this, not in a hundred years.
I have been very, very naive.
For a moment, as she lets her eyes close and shuts them tight, she can imagine that she isn't in Redcliffe at all, but back in Highever, before any and everything happened. Tears sting at her eyes with the sense of how simple it all was, how good, how easy. Nothing had been that way since, but they'd made the best of it, hadn't they? Despite the odds stacked to the sky against them, their strange band had managed to do what no one thought possible. Each in their party had their own weights to bear, but they'd proven noble allies and steadfast friends, in the end. It's true that the feeling of betrayal stirs within her, biting hot at her insides at the thought of the conversation she'd just had with Morrigan... but, if it's true? If it's true (and she does believe it, forgiving to a fault), then this way be their way to actually outlive the Fifth Blight. More importantly, it might be a way to keep Alistair from noble, self-sacrificial action.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes her hands are shaking and she clenches them into fists that whiten her skin. Riordan has said he'll take that last blow; he's a seasoned warrior, we've nothing to fear. And yet, the tiniest voice inside her doesn't second this hope, retains that until the move is made, they can't know for certain what will happen. Who will live or die.
Swallowing hard, Robyn pushes from the door and moves down the hall, still dressed in the armor of the day, feeling its weight with every step. She'd told Morrigan that she would speak with Alistair, but every step solidifies how she feels about the entire thing, just drives home all her reservations that had shouted, demanding to be heard, when she'd first been told what this ritual would entail. Even so, and no matter what the apostate had said, this isn't her own decision.
Her skin is crawling when she enters the room. It's his room, technically, as they'd been given their own, but neither had ever had any intention of being alone tonight. On the last night. So, she closes another door, trying not to let the enormity of Morrigan's words shine through like a complete beacon. ]
Oh, are these your chambers? [ She questions lightly, with every effort to appear perfectly unconcerned, though they'd both been informed of more cheery news about the fates of the Wardens (and more). ] Well, my mistake. I really thought I had the right door...
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Oh, dear. You can't be seen walking out of here, Warden Cousland. It's just not proper. Whatever shall we do? [ his voice cracks a little on the last word and it's everything he can do not to let the facade drop.
after riordan told them the truth, he'd come into his room and paused. stared right at the floor and couldn't even take his armor off like he probably should have. instead, he stood stock still until robyn came in, his mind racing a mile a minute.
alistair wants to have faith in riordan. he really, truly does. but he can't help but think of ostagar and the complete slaughter that happened there. they lost so many wardens, and that wasn't even the whole horde. their senior says he'll take the final blow, make the sacrifice so they can live, but there's no guarantee his plan will work. if anything, it's more likely it won't. and that--well. that terrifies alistair. makes him cold right down to his core.
he doesn't want to die. but more than that, he doesn't want to face a life without robyn. she's been the brightest spot in his life for a while now and he--maker, it sound pathetic, but he's not sure what he'd do without her. he's really not.
the smile on his face falters as he swallows hard. but she's playing at ease, at light-heartedness, so he does his best to go along with it. ]
I don't suppose you'd like to help me into something more comfortable?
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And that's all besides what's most pressing at her mind, which won't stay down for long, though which she wishes she could set aside and never tell him. Robyn knows that she can't make that decision, though, not when he has every right to (possibly) save his own life. If he wants to go through with the ritual, she can't begrudge him for it, much as the very idea might tug at her heart. ]
Suppose away. [ She replies lightly, stepping in. They're both armed and armored, but with the information she's just received, she barely notices. It drags her down as if she's weary heavy mail and she's more than obviously distracted, unable to muster the usual amount of bright optimism, though she wants nothing more than to see him smile. ... And not the one he's chosen, which is strained and deeply upset.
Robyn thumbs at his jaw, briefly, then moves to the clasps of his breastplate. The deft hands of a rogue slip the buckles off and away without too much trouble, working at each piece in turn. Gingerly, she takes the gloves, nudges him backward to sit on the bed and kneels to remove his boots. He can do much of it himself, but busying herself with a simple task, and one that helps him in even the smallest capacity, distracts from the... everything else.
Andraste, give me strength. Maker, keep him safe. ]
More comfortable now that you've shed all the weight of that metal? [ She smiles thinly, rising. They're both here, physically, but seemingly somewhere else in mind. ] It's a wonder you can keep that on your back all day long.
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Eventually, it dawns on her that this is different. Concerning. The brunette swallows, finally taking stock of her surroundings, but there isn't much to see or to register. Truthfully, she isn't aware of much beyond her name and has only bits of her identity held solid in her mind. The rest of it drifts lazily around her, like how the air seems to hang in this place. No matter how much she walks, nothing changes, and eventually she has to accept that she's stuck in this... whatever it is. ]
Hello? [ Robyn calls, and in another twist, her voice sounds completely normal. It doesn't echo or sound otherwise as she'd expected it. Maybe this is the Fade. It isn't as if she's any expert, after, and her dreams since the Joining have been different enough that yet another change shouldn't be a surprise.
A little more resigned, but without any more answers, she settles down and sits cross-legged on the ground, searching her person for any telling objects or signs. There isn't anything there, though, not even a weapon (which will make things interesting if a demon or unfriendly spirit arrives)... ]