Dragon Age Inquistions: Expectations

“You did this,” Alistair had told her, as they quit Denerim and the Landsmeet, and began the journey to Redcliffe, “all of this.”

Ana disagreed. All she’d tried to do was the right thing, and any Grey Warden would have done the same, she was certain. She had just been lucky enough to survive this long. Alistair liked to praise her. She couldn’t be sure his view on things hadn’t just been coloured by his feelings for her.

It was true to say that she felt the same about all of them. Had it not been Alistair who’d convinced Arl Eamon to assist them against Loghain? And it had been Wynne who had spoken out for the Circle of Mages against the Templars, though they had been more than willing to let her walk free. And without Shale, how could they ever have won Caridin over and broken the Assembly’s deadlock? She hadn’t been able to change a thing in Orzammar, which had been as belligerent as ever.

She was humbled by the people she travelled with, and she was happy just to have been there to witness their victory. It was safe to say that things were looking brighter for them, and for Ferelden.

Or at least, things had been looking brighter since they’d left Denerim. As they marched along the Imperial Highway, she felt a shudder pass through her, a sudden cold, like someone had walked over her grave. She turned to look back down the road and saw no one, as she’d expected. But still, it felt like someone had tapped her between the shoulders.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” Oghren said, as being the two with the shortest legs tended to leave them at the rear of the group together, “that Riordan guy said something about putting a team together to search the Deep Roads for the Archdemon. Maybe I should go along. He’ll probably be needing someone who knows their way around those cesspits.”

“I thought you were going to stay up here on the surface with Felsi.”

A wide grin opened in Oghren’s beard like a fissure in a cave wall. “Felsi? Now there’s a name I’ve not heard in awhile. Yeah, she did move up to the surface. Somewhere near the lake, I think she said. Maybe I should look her up. That’s a pretty fine idea.”

It was always difficult to tell if he was winding her up or if he was just pished and forgetful, since he was wont to be both. They’d already met Felsi at the Spoiled Princess Inn near Lake Calenhad, and they’d gotten along swimmingly, as far as she could tell. Still, she left him to wrestling with his wineskin and marched ahead.

“I must admit, I had doubted your ability to bring us this far,” Sten told her, as she neared, “but now I see that my patience has not been misplaced. Soon, we shall join battle against the darkspawn, as it should have been all along.”

Ana smiled fondly. She assumed that was his way of thanking her for finding a way to cut through the politic melange of the last few months and finally bringing Ferelden together against the darkspawn. He had complained about it, but she’d asked him for his faith, and to his credit he had given it.

“And once we’re done you can go home, and tell your Arishok that a Blight is many things, but mostly over.”

He shot her a sidelong glare. “I do not appreciate your humour.”

“I didn’t say anything funny, did I?”

“You did not.”

She paused in step, and almost ended up being passed by Oghren. She had seen the haft of the immense two-handed blade strapped to Sten’s back and realised that it was not Asala, not his sword. Where was it? Surely he hadn’t lost it again?

But the way he’d acted. He wasn’t the most affectionate of beings, Sten, but he’d seemed almost fond of her after she’d returned his weapon. He’d called her ‘kadan’, and that seemed important. Now it was almost like she’d never found it for him.

She ran up behind Leliana and tugged at her sleeve. “Leli, there’s something weird going on. Everyone’s at it.”

“Aren’t they always?” she asked, without slowing her pace even a little, “I would have thought that you of all people knew how the world worked.”

The anxious knot in Ana’s stomach tied itself tighter. Suddenly, it felt like she didn’t even recognise these people anymore. The woman marching next to her, practically ignoring her, had always treated her with the greatest kindness. She wasn’t wearing any of the Chantry’s iconography on her armour anymore either, and her newfound faith had always been so very important to her.

“What do you mean?”

She laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t be about to go into this battle if there wasn’t something in it for me. Where there is chaos, there is opportunity, and the darkspawn cause a lot of chaos. I am sure when it is time to rebuild, Queen Anora will need assistance from willing and able volunteers.”

Ana clamped her lips down on a sudden swell of nausea and hurried away before she could say anymore. This wasn’t the woman she’d met in Lothering, the one she’d travelled with, fought with, the pious and kind soul who had wept at the sight of Andraste’s Urn.

“Shale!” she called, reaching out for the golem like her physical solidity would keep her anchored while all around her felt like it was shifting and contorting, “Shale!”

She didn’t answer. Like Sten, she wasn’t especially talkative, but after what they’d found in the Cadash Thaig, it had felt like they were of the same clan. Whatever had happened couldn’t have affected her, could it?

“Shale, what’s wrong?”

“It does like to jest, doesn’t it? Perhaps it likes to think of itself as a comedian.”

“Not you too. I’m not being funny.”

“At least we are in agreement about that.”

Shale’s low rumble of a voice could convey emotion, though mostly only sarcasm. Just now, she was angry, audibly so, and it sent a ripple of fear coursing through her, which for a moment was nothing to do with whatever awful thing was happening, but more about her immediate physical safety.

She looked around, not knowing what for, and caught sight of Morrigan. A mage. Maybe this was something magical and she needed an expert’s opinion.

“Morrigan, everyone’s acting weird and I think Shale hates me,” she said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice.

“’Tis hardly surprising, given her generally low opinion of squishy things.”

Morrigan at least seemed like her usual self. Maybe her magic made her immune to...

“She did not take your decision to side with the mad paragon against her creator well, however. It might behove you to take that into consideration.”

Ana gaped. “Where’s Wynne? I need to speak to Wynne.”

That made the other woman’s nose turn up. “That senile Chantry pet departed our company when we made our decision to defile her precious Urn. If you had wished for her counsel, I would have advised against that, but you didn’t seem to care for her opinion.”

Mortification paralysed her. She looked around, despairing. There had to be someone who could make sense of all this. But it wasn’t just Wynne who she couldn’t see anymore. There was no sign of Zevran either, or her puppy. She stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled, but she couldn’t even hear him panting like she normally could.

“Where’s Zevran? And Bingo? Where’s my puppy?”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Who are you prattling about now? We have enough unnecessary baggage with us without taking on more, surely. Now will you go and pester someone else.”

Ana couldn’t have agreed with her more, since she didn’t especially want to keep talking to the Morrigan that had replaced the nice one she’d had before. The one that had told her she appreciated her friendship, even if she wouldn’t always be able to live up to it. Somehow, just walking down this road, all her triumphs, all the things she had been proud of herself for doing, and all her friendships, had been undone.

She saw Alistair at the head of the group and her heart sank. She almost couldn’t bear to approach him, knowing that he might not be the man he had been before. And that thought terrified her, because she had loved that man.

She stumbled towards him, driven on by the thought that this was all a nightmare, and when she saw his face it would end and she would be back among friends.

She went to call out to him, but his name caught in her throat. His head turned anyway, reacting to her proximity. And suddenly the short, blond hair was gone, replaced by a long, dark tangle. The Grey Warden armour they had liberated from the Denerim headquarters vanished, and in its place was polished silver plate armour. The sword and shield she had found for him, the ones that had belonged to Duncan, simply weren’t there anymore, changed to weaponry she didn’t recognise.

The face that turned on her wasn’t that of a friend or partner, but of an enemy. It was the face of Teryn Loghain, the man who she had last seen lying dead upon the floor of the Landsmeet.

“Can I help you, Warden?”

“Not at all,” the Warden replied, shaking his head, “we must make haste to Redcliffe, and finish what we have started.”