No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

No Time for Words

The night they came back from Ostagar the second time, they were all silent, drained. But Alistair seemed empty. Thora walked at his elbow, saying nothing, knowing that if her lover couldn't speak he was clearly in an extremity indeed, and no words from her were going to help. Wynne, behind her, made no sound beyond the occasional sniffle, and even Leliana had nothing to say of the beauty of the Maker's world today.

Alistair hadn't wanted anything to do with Cailan's armor—he'd wanted to send it straight to Denerim. But Thora could imagine a future in which it would be necessary. She took the bundled mass to Arl Eamon's study when they arrived back at Redcliffe and they had a few quiet words. Eamon took the armor and put it in safekeeping. For now.

After seeing the Arl, Thora took a moment to stop and check on Wynne. Her friend was tired, but seemed in control of herself. "Many have been lost, my dear. At Ostagar and elsewhere. And more will be before we prevail." Wynne smiled sadly. "Sometimes the weight of the loss rests more heavily on these old bones than others."

"Will your bones be ready day after tomorrow when we leave for Orzammar?"

"Yes, my dear. I will be ready when you need me." Wynne looked softly and affectionately at the Grey Warden.

"Thank you, my friend. I will count on your wisdom."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Wynne scoffed, "but you'll have my advice, at any rate. Whether you ask for it or not."

The two women smiled at each other, and Thora took a deep breath, heartening herself for the more difficult moment. She slipped down the hall to his room, knocking softly. There was no answer.

As she stood there, debating whether she should just go in, Leliana went by on her way to her own room. She stopped when she saw Thora. "Is he in there?"

"He's not answering," Thora said helplessly. "I ... don't know if I should go in or not."

"You saw him today. Does he seem as though he should be alone?"

"I don't know. He ... he wasn't talking at all, and didn't seem to notice I was there." Thora turned away from the door. "I should let him be."

"Didn't seem to notice?" Leliana snorted lightly. "He kept looking at you, checking to see where you were. I think you were the only thing holding him together." She reached out and gave Thora a little push.

Was that true? Was he counting on her, and she'd missed it? Thora hesitated. "Are you all right?" she asked Leliana.

"I will pray," Leliana said with an eloquent shrug. "For him it will not be so simple." Her sympathetic gaze traveled to the door, and she motioned Thora forward toward it.

Convinced, Thora opened the door, stepping carefully into the room, which was pitch dark. She felt around, finally stumbling over him as he sat on the floor next to the bed. His knees were drawn up, his face buried in his arms, and his shoulders were shaking.

"Oh, love," Thora breathed, but she could tell this was still no time for words. She sat down in a similar position, but facing him. She leaned her head against his knee, waiting. After a few moments, his arms unfolded and reached out for her. She knelt at his side, holding his head on her shoulder, feeling the fabric of her shirt dampen with his tears until he had no more.

At last, exhausted and spent, he allowed her to help him up off the floor and into bed. She climbed in also, sliding under the blankets next to him. Almost asleep, he clutched her to him tightly. "Never leave me," he breathed. "Promise you'll never leave me." He was asleep almost before the last words were out, so he didn't hear the silence that followed—she simply could not make that promise. Her eyes, tearless and burning, stared into the dark for a long time.