Dragon Age Origins: The Tale of Solana

Chapter 30: Thanks and Goodbye

Alistair peered over the swampy waters of the Wilds. The cat tails swung back and forth in the peaceful breeze. Another tear slide down his face and he did not bother to wipe it away. Did nature bother to notice the taint running over us all? Where was the Maker protecting Duncan or Cailan? Why did this happen?

He swallowed a sob that wanted to escape. The only man to ever even resemble a father to him was gone. Gone forever to those evil, tainted creatures. He was so absorbed in his melancholy, Alistair did not hear the hut door slowly open and close. Morrigan's mother watched and looked over to the young man mourning. Her eyes softened only for a moment.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair turned and his heart soared when he saw the lovely pair of deep, blue eyes. She was alive, and somehow it lessened the pain of losing everything else. The strained way he began to talk gave away his sorrow. "You... You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure."

"I'm not," Solana began to tear up herself. "Thanks to Morrigan's mother."

Alistair gave a sad smirk. "This doesn't seem real." The smirk faded as a few tears fell from his eyes. Solana didn't know what to do. She looked every way, but Alistair. She had never dealt with a shem in a way so personal. She looked up at his glazed stare. She reached up, and wiped the tears away with a gentle touch.

The warmth of her hand sent butterflies in Alistair's stomach. However, it didn't stop the frown creeping back to him. "If it wasn't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top that tower. Along with Kip."

Morrigan's mother stood next to the young man with a nonchalant gaze. "Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad."

Alistair turned with Solana, who now wore a sad smile. "I didn't mean..." Alistair cleared his throat. "But what do we call you? Y-you never told us your name."

The Witch shrugged. She eyed the young man with a gleam in her eyes. In her younger years, the boy would have made a fine mate, for a night or two anyhow. His Templar ways, of course, would do him no good in a romantic way with an apostate for more than a week or two, she was sure. This amused the old woman considerably as she thought on it.

"Names are pretty," she stated, "but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

Alistair nearly fell over in shock. She couldn't possibly... No, surely not! "The Flemeth, from the legends? Daveth was right—You're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Flemeth pulled her lips to the side, annoyed. "And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?"

"If you're Flemeth," Solana comments, "you must be very old and powerful." She recalled the few times that Daveth had been so frightened of the two women.

"Must I?" Flemeth's grey brow arched. She knew this young woman well, though Flemeth dare not say it to her. "Age and power are relative—It depends on who is asking. Compared to you, yes, on both counts."

"Then why didn't you save Duncan?" Alistair gritted his teeth against the tears that threatened his newly repaired walls. "He is... He was our leader."

"I am sorry for your Duncan," Flemeth said earnestly, "but your grief must come later..."

"What do you mean?"