[ ten years later ]

[havardr]

It took a great deal and yet nothing at all for Kallian to accept that Alistair was alive again. She didn't understand how, and the prospect of why is frankly terrifying for the Grey Warden, but he was alive. The signs of change were strange and subtle - sometimes he went quiet just as the Calling in her head grew loudest, and there was no hint of Darkspawn taint - but otherwise he was just as she saw him the morning of the battle for Denerim.

By that evening his face had been pale and his hands lifeless, impossibly heavy, and she watched his sleep like a hawk for signs of death returning.

It had been weeks. He ate, he slept, he dreamed, he laughed, he fought demons and bandits and darkspawn and bears with her and yet she could barely smile, rarely had more than tea or bread or dried fruit and meat for a meal. They were an even odder pair than they'd been a decade prior, full of awkward silences where he watched her and she watched anything but him and Kallian knew that was partially her fault.

Entirely her fault, even.

But what could she do? Alistair being alive again meant that she had to take a good, hard look at the person she'd allowed herself to become in the last ten years and honestly, she hadn't liked what she saw in her reflection in some time. Nevermind trying to consider how he might feel, coming back from the dead to a love who had become bitter and half-mad while he was gone.

Not that it mattered, she told herself. She had to find a cure for the Calling before she worried that her soul might not pass muster any longer. She wouldn't let Alistair out of her sight, even when that task sent her past Tevinter and into the dust storms of the Anderfels, and Alistair, at least, seemed more than happy to follow her to the ends of Thedas.

The Anderfels were more barren and fractured - politically and geographically - than Kallian had expected. Grey Wardens, at least, had once been rather commonplace, the only sign of the law for many of the Anders, so no one questioned just two more traveling alone from Ferelden. At least there was plenty to do - plenty of darkspawn to fight, farmers to protect. Usually at the same time, like the evening they found themselves surrounded, overwhelmed nearly, until the someone called to Kallian.

"Hail, cousin."

The Architect stood not far from the fray, and the darkspawn sheathed their weapons and lined in formation. Kallian's cheek twitched in agitation - the Architect was darkspawn before it was anything else, and Kallian distrusted all darkspawn equally, ability to speak the language or no. Her weapon remained drawn, if not pointed at the creature. As it approached, Kallian put her hand towards Alistair, careful not to touch, always careful not to touch no matter how much it seemed natural, how much she wanted to. "I'll explain later." Because clearly, she would have to.

Comments

[templariffic]

"It would seem as we are ill met," its voice was strangely affronted in a demure yet powerful way. Unintelligible as the darkspawn were, they did seem to notice when it spoke, tempered by fear and familiarity at once. But the control seemed... loose, at best. Covered eyes, made to look over the taller figure positioned behind Kallian-- yes, Kallian, the bond with her was strong. Strengthening. How long did she have left before she succumbed to the taint?

A minor distraction, one that manage to derail the creature from its task. Gesturing with one arm toward the darkspawn held at bay, it shook its head before focusing without a gaze on Kallian once more. "I understand your apprehension, but know we both seek a Cure to this affliction."

Alistair's eyes remained on this darkspawn, breathing labored but not overly so. There was something inexplicable, intrinsic-- a whispering he felt come from inside his bones. His sword remained drawn as well, knowing better than to trust darkspawn in any capacity. That this one could talk was new, but he wasn't about to buddy up just because it could understand the insults he'd hurl at it.

"So wait, we're hearing and understanding this-- this thing?!" not musical, but definitely a whispering, and it gave him chills to consider it might be a sign of his own Calling. But he hadn't been a Warden long enough to...

"Perhaps you were drawn here, Cousin," and though it did not approach, the Architect decidedly found Alistair-- or what he was the vessel of, to be quite interesting...

[havardr]

"By you? I would hesitate to make such a claim." Namely because Kallian would see that as more than good reason to run the Architect through on the spot. The Calling rings in her skull, her teeth, causing Kallian to grind them in irritation, fingers curling around the hilt of her blade just a little tighter. "You are interested in furthering the power of your kind. We? Are not."

As Kallian spoke, the Architect's attention drifted from her to Alistair and back again. It moved towards the latter and Kallian moved before any of the other darkspawn could - suddenly she stood between it and Alistair, an immovable and somewhat furious object. "Be calm, Cousin." A hand raised did little, it seemed, to actually calm her, if the nick at the creature's throat meant anything. "Your companion is...unique. His soul contains something powerful and ancient. I would like to learn more about him."

"No." Kallian's voice was firm. So was her hold on the blade. "He is not an experiment for your curiosity -"

"You torture yourself because he lives again when once you welcomed the idea of death if it meant reuniting. There is more darkspawn in you than elvhen blood, now, yet you fight against it, as if you had any chance on your own. You do not know what to do with him, Cousin. You should allow me, and rest."

[templariffic]

Few old habits died easily, and one of them was Alistair was particularly defensive of anyone who criticized Kallian. That's how his fist wound up making very strong contact with this Darkspawn's face, sending it staggering to one side. Okay, stagger-floating, but he was pleased he made an impact. "Excuse me, I'm right here, don't talk about me like I'm some pastry in the market you find fascinating." He took a step back and rose his shield with his left arm, turned slightly downward while his other arm held out toward Kallian.

The ranks of darkspawn seemed to shudder and claw at the restraint the Architect had over them, some of them breaking through and advancing, swarming in an effort to protect their brethren.

"Look, yell at me later, but we are we talking to this thing?"

"Detain them," hissed the Architect, holding one side of its face while the flesh slithered and popped back into place. So close to its allies, it was nearly invincible. Strike it down and it would rise again with the sacrifice of its kin. They were well outnumbered and the likelihood of escape was slim. But the creature knew that a soul would be released upon death-- so it would need to control the terms by which that death occurred.

Which meant Kallian was of little interest, her life would mean nothing if lost. The other-- Alistair, yes, he had a connection to him as well, his death would mean the loss of an ancient power. Such the pity.

The darkspawn wasted no time in honing on their instincts, driven by a desire, a fervor, and they descended upon the two Wardens with reckless regard for their own wellbeing.

[havardr]

Kallian swore under breath but it was done; before the Architect recovered she took Alistair's hand, the knife gone and in its place a glass ball filled with dark blue liquid. Without thinking she threw it at the Architect and barely made it behind Alistair before the creature burst into violet flames, with screams that Kallian knew would haunt her dreams for at least a month.

Still holding his hand, Kallian turned opposite, sword drawn, attempting to hack her way through what darkspawn had tried to work their way behind them. Surprised by the firebombing, most of the darkspawn were unprepared for Kallian's extreme prejudice while leading them out.

Finding their way back to the small plot of farmland where they'd left mounts (a good habit, in her opinion, in the possible case that they wouldn't return to claim the beasts) - during that time, Kallian kept reaching for Alistair's hand again and again, but any attempt at conversation was met with a firm shake of her head and a small smile.

Talking would have to wait.

A few more hours found them in a city proper - with walls and guards and everything - with Kallian paying for room for the night, their share of the evening's dinner, and baths. Two. She gave Alistair's hand another squeeze before disappearing into one of the basement rooms, full of warm air and steam.

It would be a while before she made her way back to the room they shared. A few hours, at least.

[templariffic]

If he'd ever thought to question why he loved Kallian, he had to say she was a damn attractive sight covered in gore and slicing her way through tainted creatures from the bowels of Thedas. He was mindful not to be distracted while things were undeniably serious. Later he would ask her about the creature, a Darkspawn that spoke. But she kept to herself along the ride to town. There were several attempts to try and get hr to perk up or to laugh, say something, anything, but her mood was resolute.

One thing that kept him rooted with her, without doubting that she was sincere in wanting him nearby was her hand grasping at his. He kept his grip firm but not overly desperate, nor too weak. Something the Darkspawn had said had unsettled her. It was a gaping wound he saw, or maybe he was reading too much into it... but he had little else to occupy his mind without conversation.

Andoral's Reach was a moderate city, the farther west they went, the more prominent the presence of Grey Wardens and Darkspawn alike. More Orlesian than he liked, but with enough foreign feel to it that he didn't feel like he was stuck around poncy knobs.

After Kallian had departed into the basements Alistair stripped down to the clothes under his armor. Just a simple cotton shirt and pants, though he was certain he smelled rancid from the travel, the fighting, and the taint. Should he continue to poke Kallian to try and provoke a response? She'd always cherished his ability to make her laugh...

[havardr]

After getting out of her own armor, Kallian spent a decent chunk of time just staring at her reflection in the water, with mixed feelings on using it for its intended purposes. Eventually she just told herself to stop feeling so sorry for herself and do what needed doing - specifically, bathing and getting the darkspawn blood out of her hair.

She managed to keep her mind fairly empty as she went through the process of not being covered in filth and gore. There was a slippery slope there, one which she wasn't sure how to find her way out of - her feelings for Alistair combined with the looming reality of her fate, should she not find a cure to the Calling and soon, plus all the decisions she'd made since he died. If she'd stayed in Amaranthine, would Anders still have gone and become a terrorist, blowing up a Chantry? If she'd killed the Architect when she'd first had the chance, would there be a threat to Alistair's well-being now?

There were questions, and Kallian knew that she'd only survived this long by not allowing herself to question, because it all boiled back down to one:

Would Morrigan's plan have worked?

Even if it hadn't, even if he had gone through with it at her insistence and yet still died, there would have been some part of Alistair still in the world these past ten years, and there had definitely been moments, weeks, months in which Kallian had wished that such a small boon had been allowed, at least.

By the time she began attempting to untangle her hair from it's knots of dirt and blood and various leaves and flowers, the water had long since turned brown and cold. With a huff, she decided she might as well stop avoiding the inevitable and went to find Alistair to ask for his help.

And maybe a hug while he was at it.

[templariffic]

Even if he knew some time was necessary for Kallian to process things it didn't give him room to not be nervous. Ten years-- to him it felt as though yesterday he'd been preparing to fight the Archdemon and psyching himself up to take the ultimate sacrifice. Kallian had already given up so much and had done so much good in the world that Ferelden needed her. Or so he thought.

It seemed to him that Ferelden had forgotten her. Thoroughly and utterly. Whether or not that was of her own volition he couldn't figure out. There were a lot of unsure things weighing on his mind but one thing for certain was this...

She had held his hand and hadn't let go. Or when she had, it wasn't long before his hand had curled around hers.

It was something small but pivotal, nonetheless. A brilliant spark in the cacophony of his mind that had helped to soothe it.

With that in mind he smiled to himself, feeling a bit more confident that things hadn't been damaged beyond repair. Now he could focus on things like getting out of his armor and scrubbing out his hair in the basin while Kallian soaked. He filled the basin with water and scrubbed at his hair, grabbing a towel to keep things from getting too messy. It was like this, shirtless and scrubbing his head with a damp towel that Kallian would find him. He hadn't even noticed the door being opened.

[havardr]

She'd gone into the room expecting to be civil, to at least hold a conversation. How difficult could it be? I can't untangle my hair seemed straightforward enough and yet, when she opened her mouth, that wasn't what came out at all.

"I hate you."

Kallian clamped her mouth shut but there was no stopping the outburst once it started. She picked up a comb and threw it at his shoulder, watched it bounce off. "I hate you! This is the worst time...ten years, ten years and I was finally willing to let go of this voided world and now you're back and I..."

Much to her horror Kallian found hot, angry tears running down her cheeks. This time she threw a brush. "You weren't supposed to die! You saved all those people and you left me behind! Everything's been terrible without you and you're here, and you look no different, and I'm old and I'm tired and yesterday I wanted to die so I could see you again."

[templariffic]

Initially the shock of the statement made him think he was hearing someone on the street yell that, but then he was hit with something light but hard. He straightened and looked over his shoulder, confused. Kallian stood in front of the door, dripping wet and red enough that her freckles stood out against her skin.

His brows knitted together and his mouth formed into a protest but he stopped short as she continued, ducked out of the way when she threw the brush at him. Those words cut, however, leaving him speechless and watching as her eyes glistened and her face began to crumple under the weight of something. The sensation was strange, an unfamiliar sort of intuition came over him, from where, he could only feel it coming from his chest. Somewhere.

There was no rebuttal to that. She was right, but the alternative was that she would die and he considered her far more important than himself. But wasn't that cruel? To call what she loved worthless? He straightened and looked inward very briefly before watching her again. Duncan would scold him, if he could, that he shouldn't approach someone so angry, especially half-clothed... but Kallian wasn't his enemy. Even Mabari would snap at their owners if they hurt enough-- not that he was her owner by any means, but that unconditional love wasn't always the soft smell of roses but the sting of its thorns, too.

His eyes remained on her as he reached out, closing in and getting a firm grip on her wrist. Not strong enough to hurt but enough to hold her in place when she resisted against the contact. It wasn't a long resistance but she was angry. It had to go somewhere. He wetted his lips before pulling her in close, surrounding her with his other arm and pulled her into an embrace. It was a nervous gesture, mostly, but also that his mouth was dry.

Now with her close enough, he released her wrist and brought his hand up to rest on the back of her head, urging her to rest her cheek against his chest. "It was selfish." he ducked his face to press into her hair, eyes closed as he spoke. "I was selfish. But you're not old, you're Kallian. Old is Wynne, and she really could knock hard with that staff of hers." He grinned a little but then cut the antics short. "But Maker willing, I'm here now. And no Blight, no politics, nothing will keep me from being at your side."

[havardr]

In the moment she hated that part of her wished to immediately relent, to collapse, to curl into him and ignore the rest of the world. To spend whatever little time she had left in this world just there, listening to his heartbeat. She hit him in the shoulder - hard - as he pulled her in but the stiffness in her spine only lasted long enough for her to take five breaths.

Kallian loved Alistair. Even after ten years, even after the accusations of his uncles and their peers, even after feeling as though nothing she did would improve anything.

"I am old," she said, voice quiet and still rough, "or I'm meant to die young." It's more comforting to think of herself as old.

His voice had cracked at nothing and she wanted to believe it almost as much as she was terrified to. She'd lost so much when he'd died - not only had she been stripped of her idea of the future, of any future, but her legitimacy in the eyes of the Thedan aristocracy. Leliana had tried to teach her of the game, as both a preventative measure and to keep her distracted from her mourning, but Kallian's heart hadn't been in it.

She became a recluse savior. It was rarely a balanced combination.

"I know why you did it." She knew him, didn't she? He died because he thought that it was the best choice, because he thought that she was more important, better, something. "But as far as they were concerned I stole their king from them and they never forgave me for it."

Sighing, Kallian put her arms around Alistair's waist. "I feel old. The Calling echoes in my head, in my dreams, except for when I look at you, and I'm scared. I lost you once, I don't think I have it in me to survive it again. Part of me wonders if I haven't gone mad, poisoned in a cave somewhere, and none of this is real because my mind is lost and I'm slowly dying."